


Training

by EarthGirl3015



Series: That Girl Is A Problem [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And makes friends in the process, I'm just lazy with tags, Makeovers, Please be kind to yourself, There is depressive language used at the start of this fic, Wanda learns how to be something like normal again, more characters will show up - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22940116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthGirl3015/pseuds/EarthGirl3015
Summary: From Age of Ultron to Civil War
Series: That Girl Is A Problem [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594009
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks.  
> So I have no schedule for writing and my 'muse' is hit and miss at the best of times and I have shitty self esteem, so sometimes I want to write but can't make myself. So this series will be going on. I have it all planned out, believe me. I just might take...a while, to get to it.  
> Either way, enjoy...or something like it.  
> Disclaimer: I do not have PTSD. I do not know anyone who has PTSD. This will probably be obvious. I have only tried to give my interpretation of what Wanda might have been feeling after Ultron. If you don't like it, constructive criticism is welcome, or there's a back button somewhere on this page. Thank you for your time.  
> Also the usual I don't own any of this stuff, please don't sue me.

The Complex, with its seemingly never-ending corridors, had felt like a maze on the first couple of days, but Wanda had slowly begun to find her bearings. She now knew her way from her room to the kitchen, at least, which was arguably the most important route. Her room was also en-suite, so there was no worry about bathrooms. From there the Complex expanded out, her little bubble caught in what was obviously supposed to be shared accommodation.

There was an entire room that was just a cinema, that she had manged to find twice; once by accident, the second time with intent. The Olympic sized swimming pool was reasonably easy to find; just follow the shimmering walls and the overwhelming smell of chlorine. Unfortunately, the room she came to hate, quite quickly, was only one floor below her.

“Boss outfitted every machine so that it’s top of the range,” the cheerful voice came from the ceiling above Wanda’s head as she stood gaping at all the strange machines around her. Having never set foot in a gym before, she was completely baffled by what some of them were supposed to do. She saw a table with every kind of interchangeable handle known to man standing in one corner – some of them looked so weird she couldn’t even guess what they were for – while the free weights side of the gym held dumbbells and round black weights of monstrous sizes, sitting next to racks of barbells, just waiting to be used. She felt her arms go limp just looking at them.

“I know, right?” surprised at someone else’s voice, Wanda spun round. A black man with a wide smile, a white tank top and grey gym shorts was walking casually across the room towards her, though his body slowed when he took in her surprise.

“Sorry,” he stopped where he was, just out of arms reach, “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just saw you looking at all the ways Stark knows how to torture you into your best body and figured I’d commiserate with you. I’m only human, I can barely keep up with these super powered freaks. Though I look good doing it.” He gave her a quick wink then laughed, which was so unexpectedly friendly that she found herself unwillingly snorting and smiling at him. He seemed to take in that she was still uncomfortable, so he stepped slowly forward, his hand out stretched carefully, as though he was trying to calm a startled animal.

“Name’s Sam Wilson. You?”

She stood there, staring down at his outstretched palm. This was so stupid. She had shaken people’s hands before. Of course, she had. But that was before Sokovia had imploded, and after that, any offer of kindness could turn into a grope, a quick grab meant to hurt and tear muscles or even an opening for a knife. She blinked. She was not in Sokovia, and she was not at war. She was in America, in the Avengers Complex, and nobody here would hurt her. She tentatively reached out and grasped his hand, realising her palm was sweaty as she did so. He politely made no mention of it, just moved their hands up and down. There was something missing,

“Wanda. Maximoff. New super powered freak.” She stuttered out, trying out another smile at the end to make it clear she was trying to be funny. The instinctive urge to turn and introduce her brother, to say his name next to hers, and the knowledge that she never would again, felt like a red-hot knife to the gut, but she gritted her teeth. She would not break down in front of this nice man.

He didn’t appear to notice her internal turmoil; he was staring at her with eyes so wide they were nearly popping out of his head. His face was comically embarrassed and his hand had gone limp in hers.

She couldn’t help it; a hoarse attempt at a real laugh came out of her throat. He thankfully joined her a few seconds later.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his head, “You weren’t wearing a costume. I assumed. My bad.” For some reason, that set her off again,

“Do they all walk around in costume all the time then? That must make eating quite difficult, if Hawkeye always had his bow in his hands, and the Captain keeps his shield on his arm.” Sam Wilson brought his hand up to his mouth to cover his smile.

“As funny as that picture is, I feel I should get back to what we were saying. You’re new, huh? Where’d they pick you up?” Instantly the feeling of light-heartedness faded. Her mind raced through everything that had happened at light speed; H.Y.D.R.A., the spear – so blue and cold in her mind’s eye – and what it had done to her, fighting the Avengers, Vision being brought to life, the flying city, her brother’s mind fading, tearing ULTRON apart, somehow living through it all. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t…

The floor was cool beneath her as she slumped to the ground, the room spinning, and a warm hand was suddenly on her shoulder. Her eyes shot upwards, red light in her left hand, ready to strike in her moment of weakness. Sam Wilson’s face was tight, his jaw clenched and his eyes were fixed on the small sphere of red in her hand, but his hold on her shoulder was still gentle.

“Well, that answers one question,” he was clearly trying to keep his voice calm, trying to deescalate the situation, but she couldn’t stop her power flowing, any more than she could catch her breath. Looking back at her face, he seemed to realise that she wasn’t in control at the moment and scooted round to sit on her right side, his face still in range of her power. He lifted his hand off of her, left his hands palm up on top of his crossed legs, as though showing her that he wasn’t a threat, keeping eye contact the entire time. Then he started talking,

“Got into this myself in a round about way. Was just jogging by the reflecting pool, minding my own damn business when this tall blonde guy passes me. Shouts ‘on your left’ when he does, like he’s worried about _inconveniencing_ me. I think ‘jackass’ and keep going. Not three minutes later, and I am serious here, three minutes, he passes me again. ‘On your left’ same as before, and just keeps on pounding away. I think ‘what the hell’ and pick up the pace a bit. Not _two minutes_ , my hand to God, two minutes later, he does it again. I’m properly trying to beat this guy’s ass now, like who the hell does he think he is, interrupting my morning workout like this. So I’m running for real this time and I swear it was maybe thirty seconds and ‘on your left’. Would not believe the shit he gave me for that as well, I swear. Course, about the second time I realised this wasn’t normal, and once I got a look at his face, it was pretty obvious I never had a shot at beating ‘im. Still, to rub it in my face like that, bit much, for a super powered freak.” He paused and gave her a little smile, and she felt that her breathing was starting to even out, noticed her left hand wasn’t red anymore, “Not to mention rude. Though not as rude as showing up, with Nat, all black and blue and hopeless, like a kicked puppy, after it turned out S.H.I.E.L.D. was H.Y…” her breathing started to short again at the name, and he noticed instantly, “that S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore and they needed somewhere to lie low. Apparently, I am Captain America approved trustworthy,” he made a show of straightening his back and shoulders, puffing out his chest exaggeratedly, “So there’s that.” That managed to get a small breathless giggle out of her, her breathing still coming out raggedly, although she had dropped her hand completely now and was curled in on herself, arms around her knees, rocking like a child.

“So we needed to infiltrate not-S.H.I.E.L.D., right? Because when Captain America comes calling, you sure as hell say yes. And while I am only a humble para-rescue man, I did have a few things to offer at the time. You wanna know what they are? You’ll never guess, not if you had all day. You wanna know?” He seemed to be genuinely asking, maybe making sure she was still listening, that she wasn’t trapped in her own mind. She nodded aggressively, her breath still laboured, hitting her forehead off of her knees,

“Wings.” She paused her rocking to lift her head and look straight at him, completely dumbfounded. Whatever expression was on her face, he had to visibly stop his lips from spreading into a smile, and continued,

“Yup, wings. Made outta some special metal that made Stark actually squeal when he saw them, I shit you not. Best damn things that were ever invented, I swear. Course, they’re military property, so we had to bust ‘em out, which was one hell of a ride, let me tell you. You want something done, you call Black Widow and Captain America, that’s all I’m saying.” He gave her another soft smile, which she slowly returned. Her breathing had finally slowed right down. He noticed and said,

“You feeling better now?” Not feeling up to words, she nodded. Her brain still felt like a minefield, but she could feel her thoughts starting to settle. She supposed hearing someone else’s story about how they joined the Avengers was helping her come to terms with her own. Apparently crazy shit just kind of happened around here. And men could fly, with actual wings.

“Can I see them?” she winced at her own voice, scratchy and dry. Sam Wilson beamed,

“Absolutely! You think I take my babies off for longer than a few hours a day? The only reason I’m not wearing them in here is ‘cause they catch on the machines.” She managed a coughing laugh, still feeling the strain of her voice,

“Then you are one of those heroes that goes around in costume all the time, no?” Sam Wilson laughed loudly at that. He had such an expressive face, seemed such a kind person, that she felt the contradictory urge to distrust him suddenly. Why was he being so nice? What did he want from her? Why had he helped her calm down? He looked back at her and seemed to notice her shift,

“Hey, what’s going on in there?” He nodded at her, smile slipping off his face. His eyes were still gentle though.

“What do you want?” They always wanted something; the men on the street, H.Y.D.R.A., ULTRON, the United States Government. What did this man want from her, that he would be so nice? His face settled into a neutral expression, although his eyes took on a knowing look,

“You weren’t in a good place before this, huh?” She couldn’t put into words how much she hadn’t been, so she just shook her head. “I work down at the VA, in Washington DC. ‘s where I’ve been working since I came back from Afghanistan.” His eyes were watching her, not calculating, not searching, just…seeing her. She suddenly felt like she was seeing him too. Afghanistan. Para-rescue. He was a soldier.

“VA?”

“Short for the United States Department of Veteran Affairs. I’m a registered counsellor, I help people deal with going from a battlefield to civilian life.” A therapist then, or something like it. The pieces clicked into place. That explained how he knew how to act around her, had caught her reactions to certain words, and had known how to talk her down. Actually, thinking back, hadn’t the Widow mentioned that. She took a deep, full breath, her first for several minutes probably, and felt the relief go through her. She wasn’t alone in dealing with this. There was someone here who understood. Her mouth moved before she could stop it,

“Sokovia.” Sam Wilson’s stayed neutral, though an eyebrow twitched, “I’m from Sokovia.” She managed, gritting her teeth as her emotions started to rise again. She was in America, not the flying city. She was safe.

“The place that just got…Jesus, I’m so sorry.” He even sounded it. She was, momentarily, tempted to peek into his mind, the horrible, ugly part of her brain telling her that he was probably faking, that he thought she was crazy, that he wanted to leave the weird girl sitting on the floor to her own devices. She took another deep breath, pushing the self-loathing and the sadness and the anger down, to be dealt with another time. Then, horror of horrors, she started crying,

“My brother died.” It just spilled out of her. The others knew, the others had been there, most of them had even seen. Sam Wilson hadn’t been there. He didn’t know. She had to tell him. And it made it all so real. Again. There were moments, floating in the grey suffocating space in her mind, that she…well, she didn’t forget, she could never forget, but she just…pushed the thought away. Was tired of acknowledging it. And then it would come back and hit her, full force in the face.

The tears, never far from the surface these last few days, came pouring out again, her breath came in gasping sobs as she bent her head to her knees and howled. She kept going for several minutes, feeling like she was shaking to pieces, before she managed to lift her head to wipe away her tears. She saw that Sam Wilson was now crouching, his hands dangling uselessly in front of him, sympathy and pity in his kind eyes.

“I would really like to give you a hug right now, but we just met, and I’m kind of scared you’ll put me through a wall with that red shit you got.” That shouldn’t have made her choke out a laugh. That shouldn’t have been what lifted some of the pressure from her chest, that made her legs finally straighten out and gave her the strength to wipe away her tears. But it was. She gave herself a mental shake. Her ridiculous behaviour had gone far enough. She needed to get herself under control again. She brought her hands up, in the universal language of ‘I come in peace’ and showed him that they were normal.

“It’s still new. I don’t have the best control. But I’m working on it.” Her voice was utterly wrecked now. Her throat was so dry, it felt like sandpaper. She desperately needed a glass of water.

“Come over here,” Sam Wilson stood up and made his way to the other side of the gym. Wanda had to shade her eyes from the lights, which suddenly seemed hellishly bright. She had honestly forgotten where they were for a while there. There was a drinking fountain in the corner. Checking to make sure she still had him in her line of sight, she stuck her head down and took as many gulps as she could of the metallic tasting water. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. Still better than some of the things she’d had to drink from.

Visibly shaking her head to try and dislodge thoughts of Sokovia – she was in America, she was safe – she stood up straight and suddenly didn’t know where to look. Sam Wilson was still looking at her, but she felt cracked open now, as though all of her thoughts were open to him. She wanted to curl up in a dark corner and not come out for many weeks, maybe even months, but she couldn’t. She was an Avenger now. She’d signed a contract and everything.

“You hungry?” Sam Wilson’s voice was soft, another attempt to soothe the wild animal, no doubt. She abruptly wanted to snap at him, for completely idiotic reasons, because she actually was still that delicate. A simple question like ‘Where are you from?’ had nearly driven her catatonic. Still, her pride didn’t like it.

“I think I’m just going to go up to my room,” That didn’t seem like enough, he’d helped her through her meltdown, so she tacked on, “Thank you, though. Probably not what you were expecting.” Sam Wilson shrugged, his arms wide, a sad smile on his face,

“Everybody in here has some kind of trauma. It’s not as uncommon as you think.” That thought brought her up short. The Widow had said something similar, about how the others had different ways of coping with their trauma, but she hadn’t considered that they might have breakdowns like hers. A morbid curiosity wondered if she’d walk in on Stark in a similar state to what she had just gone through, and what she might do if she did. Pushing those thoughts away, she smiled at him and said,

“Nevertheless, thank you, Sa…Mr Wilson, um.”

“Oh, God. Sam, please. Mr Wilson is my father.” His friendly smile appeared again. She couldn’t help but return it.

“Thank you, Sam.” He nodded once. She started to walk back towards the door, but just as she reached it, he called out,

“Hey, you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open.” Tears prickled at the thought, but she kept facing away from him, so he wouldn’t see.

“Thank you.” She called over her shoulder, and bolted out of the gym.


	2. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I hope whoever is reading this, that you are safe, that you have enough food and that you are OK for money at the moment. Unfortunately I can't help with any of that, but I can maybe give you something to distract from the current situation. I hope wherever you are, people are being smart and considerate, the government isn't being a dick and the sun is shining on your daily government mandated walk. (I am in the UK, we're allowed out once a day for exercise, it's not dystopian at all)  
> Stay safe
> 
> Also, Wanda is back to referring to Vision as 'it' not 'him'. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read

She stared into the room, eyes wide at the sight before her, mouth filling with saliva. She had thought it had smelled good from down the corridor, but seeing it in front of her now was staggering. Plates piled high with entire joints of meat in sauces and gravies, round bowls filled with different types of vegetables, an entire loaf of bread that had been cut into thick slices; she was surprised the table was still standing. There was an entirely separate table for drinks – every kind of pop and soda, along with bottles of beer, wine and cider, stood next to jugs of fruit juice and sweating, ice-filled water. Her stomach growled loudly, but she stayed where she was, frozen up at the sight of more food in one place than she had seen in many years.

There was so much choice! How was she ever going to decide?

A loud footstep came from her left and she jumped around, involuntarily on guard. The Widow was standing behind her, face neutral and stance just a little defensive. Glancing down at her own hands, Wanda was pleased to see that there was no red swirling around them. She was still mortified by her breakdown in the gym earlier. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the Widow, whose face had softened into a smile.

Another loud bang came from the other side of the room, as one of the doors was flung open and collided with the wall. Wanda jumped again, just as the loud blonde man the others said was a god came sauntering into the room, gesturing wildly with his hands,

“Ah, I see a feast has been prepared!” His voice boomed across the sitting area, making her almost instinctually cringe away from him. “Come, Ladies, we shall partake of a most delicious meal before the others arrive!” He wiggled his eyebrows at them both, a wide smile on his face, and turned back to the table, grabbing a large plate as he did so. Wanda only watched in silence as he began to fill it with heaped spoonfuls of…well, everything.

“You do know the others need to eat, right, Thor?” The Widow walked around Wanda, leaving enough space that she didn’t accidentally brush their shoulders together, and went to take her own plate, “And while no one alive can match your appetite, we do also have to feed a super soldier, two ordinary soldiers, a Hawkeye and a genius.”

“Then they should have been here first,” Thor smiled winningly at the Widow, though his eyes were sly, “What is the Midgardian saying, um, ‘Finders keepers, losers weepers’?”

Wanda couldn’t help it. Seeing the man who had brought lightning into a building with a magical hammer and seemed to own every inch of open space in the room just by standing in it, filling his plate like an over eager child and taunting their absent team mates with a schoolyard insult was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen. She let out a snort, instantly bringing her hand up in shock. The two Avengers looked over at her; Thor in surprise, the Widow askingly. Thor’s eyebrows went up again. She let out a short giggle, catching herself again. But Thor simply smiled widely at her,

“Won’t you pick up a plate, Lady Maximoff?” leaning over the Widow to grab another, somehow managing not to spill the contents of his own plate, and handing it to her. Carefully, as though he might zap her with his lightning if she moved too quickly, she reached out and took the plate from him. He beamed at her, as though she’d just completed a very hard task. Without meaning to, she found herself smiling back.

“Come on over, Wanda, let’s see what Tony’s chefs whipped up for us today.” The Widow was also smiling now, and Wanda finally felt something ease in her. There was an urge to peek into their heads – surely, they were only humouring her – but she found it easier to push this one away. It was only dinner, and from the way Thor was grabbing at least a spoonful of everything, she doubted anyone was going to poison or drug her. This was America, not Sokovia. These people were her team mates. They wouldn’t hurt her.

She came up and stood beside the Widow, still at a loss as to what to try. She hadn’t had food like this since the last Christmas with her parents. That time felt so long ago now, it almost could have been a story someone told her, instead of something she had experienced herself. Their parents had spent all day cooking and Pietro…

She shoved the memory away, pain prickling in her heart, and forced her attention to the food. Still unsure of what she wanted, she randomly took some carved pieces of roasted chicken, a spoonful of broccoli and peas, a ladle of some kind of pasta dish done in a creamy sauce and a slice of warm bread.

“Are you sure that is all, my Lady?” Thor’s booming voice came from over her right shoulder and she tried not to drop her plate in surprise, “There is still plenty more now, and there will not be later, when the others finally arrive.”

“Maybe don’t make her drop the plate then, you idiot,” The Widow made a show of waving Thor off, as though he was an annoying fly instead of a god, “And not everyone needs to eat as much as you. Now, go take a seat before I kick you into one.”

“Of course, Lady Natasha,” he made a show of bowing to her, although his expression was mischievous. The Widow, Natasha, only rolled her eyes, even as she smiled at his antics.

“Ignore him, but is there anything else you want?” she said in a soft voice. Wanda shook her head, wanting to just sit and eat. “Drink?” Passing her eyes over the drinks table, and feeling her brain nearly seize up at the choices offered, she decided to just grab a glass of water. Natasha led her over to the large dining table and sat on Thor’s right, motioning that Wanda sit beside her – apparently, she would act as a buffer between her and the exuberant god. Nodding a quick thanks, Wanda sat down and tucked in. A comfortable silence, broken only by the scratch of cutlery on plates and enthusiastic chewing from Thor, settled over the room. Wanda took a moment to breathe, enjoying the texture and taste of the roasted chicken she’d mixed into the pasta. It had been years since she’d had anything so good, and now she could have it every day, if she wanted to. The thought made her giddy.

The door to the room slammed open again, causing her to lurch forward in her chair and nearly choke on her food. She quickly looked down at her palms – was that a flicker of red? – and took another breath, this time running the now familiar litany through her head. _I am not in Sokovia, I am in America. I am safe and these people will not hurt me._ Looking up, she saw Sam and another black man jostling each other, each trying to grab a plate or prevent the other from getting one. Captain America stood beside them, arms crossed in a way that would have been intimidating, if his expression hadn’t been wryly amused. Stark had apparently come through the door first, as he was already scooping food onto his plate and tutting loudly at Sam and his friend.

“Now, just because you made a new friend, Rhodey, doesn’t mean that you can leave me alone to eat with these savages. So just grab a plate and come sit with me. Rogers, get your man under better control. Some of us need to eat.” Stark’s voice was somewhat taunting when addressing his (?) friend, but seemed to take an edge of something when he spoke to the Captain. Either way, his voice was grating to Wanda’s ears, and emotions she could no longer parse correctly swirled in her. She hated him, of course she did, his bombs had killed her parents, his robot had killed Pietro, it was his fault, all his fault! There really were flickers of red around her hands now, and she quickly shoved them under the table before anyone else saw.

She heard, as if from a great distance, the Captain reply to Stark, but his words were lost on her as she lowered her head and let her hair cover her face so that no one could see her reaction and she just tried to breathe. A sudden knock against her knee nearly made her jump out of her chair. Glancing through her hair, she saw Natasha had noticed her reaction, an eyebrow raised in question. Should she tell her? _I can’t stand to be in a room with him, I can barely stand to be in the same building, it’s his fault, it’s all his fault, where is my brother, I’m scared I might kill him if I’m left in a room alone with him!_

Sounds behind them grew louder as the men started to wander over to the table and take their seats. Stark, whether by choice or good luck, took the seat next to Thor, the black man she didn’t know – Rhodey? – sat next to him, the Captain next to him. Which meant…

“Hey, Gym Girl. Glad to see you, looks like you’re trying to put some meat on your bones,” Sam’s voice was warm as he pulled in his chair next to her. He seemed to take in her strange body language, but continued as though nothing was weird,

“You’ll need it. Don’t know when you’re due to start training but that one,” he pointed accusingly at the Captain, whose face took on a look of surprised innocence, even as his eyes glinted, “Will put you through absolute hell, so you’ll want to be ready for that.”

“’s not my fault some of you have trouble keeping up with me,” the Captain’s voice was pleasant in every aspect, his smile was so blinding it belonged on a movie poster and his eyes were kind, even crinkled in laughter at Sam. Wanda found she couldn’t look at him directly, scared he would know, would see, just how weak she was, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she tried to get herself under control. Loosing her power in the dining room probably wouldn’t go over well with everyone.

“Not all of us are perfect specimens of humanity.” She flinched again, Stark’s voice a surprise, as she kept her head low and squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember how to breathe normally. _It’s his fault! It’s all his fault! But he helped us…me, when he didn’t have to. He’s the reason our…my parents are dead. He’s the reason Pietro is dead!_

She heard Sam respond, then an unfamiliar melodic voice chimed in (was that Rhodey?) and the men continued to banter, Thor’s loud voice interrupting every now and again. Sliding her hands up her thighs, Wanda peeked down. There were only little wisps of red around them now, but still enough that they would call attention to her if she tried to eat again. Sighing, trying to calm her mind against the litany of _It’s his fault, it’s all his fault!_ , she swallowed and looked at her plate, trying to focus on what she wanted to eat. The cream sauce seemed to have cooled a little, congealing on her plate, but the chicken still looked good and even the vegetables looked appetising. When she took a breath this time, she deliberately tried to inhale the smells coming from her plate, in the hopes that it would calm her raging mind. Sure enough, the smell of thick cream, chicken, even the earthy scent of peas reminded her that she was starving and finally her mind calmed to the simple urge to eat. Pulling her hands up, finally free of red, she reached for her cutlery and began to cut up her vegetables.

“Smells good, huh?” Starting at being addressed, her eyes shot up to Rhodey, who was watching her across the table. Damn it, he had noticed her weird behaviour. There was a sudden lull in conversation as everyone turned to look at Wanda. Her heart started hammering again, this time with anxiety at being the centre of attention.

He had asked her a question. _Answer, you idiot!_

“Yes,” she quickly nodded her head, realised she probably looked stupid, and stopped. There was an abrupt silence. It was awkward. She found herself continuing without meaning to, “It’s so good…I…there wasn’t much food, in Sokovia and…I haven’t had this much in, in a long time.” Having sufficiently lowered the mood, she turned her attention back to the plate and shoved whatever was on her fork into her mouth in an attempt to stop herself talking. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. She couldn’t stand to look at anyone in case they were giving her pitying looks. Again, the temptation rose in her to peek into their minds, to know what they were thinking of her in this moment. But another part of her couldn’t bear to look; they probably thought she looked like a stray dog.

“There’s as much as you want.” That hateful voice seemed genuinely concerned, but she still had to stop herself from visibly tensing. She took what breath she could with her mouth full of food and looked up. Stark was looking at her, his face creased in a frown, his own fork hanging limply from his hand. “There’s one live-in chef and at least two others show up throughout the day, so whatever you want, you can ask for. If you wanted to buy in and make your own too, well, money’s no object. Get whatever you want.”

She supposed it was generous. No, she knew he was being generous. Or trying to be. But even if he had offered to pay for everything she ever wanted for the rest of her life, it didn’t change the fact that his bomb had killed her parents. That his robot had taken her brother. She was alone and afraid, in a foreign country and it was all his fault. She hated him.

But he was giving her a room to sleep in. A safe place, where no one would hurt her. And now he had offered to buy her whatever food she wanted, when she wanted it. And according to the contract she had signed yesterday, he was also paying her salary. The least she could do was not kill him in his own home.

The silence had dragged on long enough that everyone was looking uncomfortable again. She quickly swallowed and nodded, a hoarse,

“Thank you,” leaving her lips.

Stark nodded back and quirked his lips, before digging into his own plate. The entire table ate for a few minutes in silence, before Sam turned to the Captain and asked,

“So, what’s the plan for the next few days?”

The Captain swallowed his mouthful of food and smirked,

“Well, hopefully Miss Maximoff,” he paused and smiled at Wanda, who nearly dropped her fork at suddenly being the focus of the man’s intense look, “and the…um, Vision have settled in fully, so I thought we could give some basic training a go. See what they got.”

“You know what they can do, or did you get knocked on the head by an ULTRON-bot?” Stark’s sarcastic tone cut across the table, making Wanda want to shrink back. She snuck a quick look between them, saw the Captain’s eyebrows furrow as he turned towards Stark. Did these two not like each other? That’s not what the news always reported. Or what she had seen in Stark’s head.

“Sure, in a highly pressurised situation, with lives on the line, I’m aware of their instinctive reactions, but I sincerely doubt that’s all they’ve got to offer,” the Captain put down his fork, giving Stark his full attention, “When I got out of your father’s death trap, I could run like I’d never run before and was strong in ways I’d never imagined. But even I had to train to be able to throw the shield the way I do. Wanda can move things with her mind, that’s not up for debate. But I want to know what else she can do, or, if that’s all, how strong she is, what other things she can do with it. And Vision…I don’t think any of us know what he can do. Not really. Maybe not even him. And that’s not counting the glowing thing in his head, either.” Wanda considered his words. Training sounded so official, making her an Avenger in true, but considering that she could barely control her powers at the dinner table, it should probably be quite high on the to-do list.

“The gem from Loki’s sceptre. I told you, it is an Infinity Stone…” Thor began.

“Yeah, you never actually explained that,” Stark leaned forward, taking the opportunity to ignore the Captain completely, “You just said, I dunno, ‘Great cosmic power’, ‘undefeatable’, that sort of thing. And it, like, has mind powers? Or some shit?” Thor looked at Stark intently, then seemed to deflate. It was disconcerting, to say the least. He put his chicken bone down on his plate and stared at it, his eyebrows coming together.

“When the universe came into being, six sources of energy were scattered across the known universe. Each of these sources controls an aspect of creation. Last year, when the Convergence occurred in London, I fought the Dark Elf, Malekith, who sought to use the Aether, the source that controls reality itself. With the Aether, he could have wiped whole worlds from their place in the universe, as though they had never been at all. Or simply rid all healthy planets of their people, so that conquering it would have been unnecessary.”

“And where is this Aether now?” Stark’s voice was high with barely controlled panic, and Wanda didn’t need to glance into his mind to know where his thoughts had gone. The doomsday vision she had seen in his head was still very real in her own mind. Thor seemed to notice his teammate’s panic, and lent across, putting his hand on top of Stark’s, where it was clenched on the table top.

“It is hidden. It is safe. No one shall find it where we have put it.” Thor’s deep voice intoned this seriously, no joking in his face now. Stark took a deep breath, nodded quickly, and brought his other hand up to pat Thor’s hand. Thor let go immediately.

“Yeah, sure, cool, no problem, Point Break. You said it was the Mind Stone, in Vision’s head, though, right? And we’ve seen what that thing can do, with the whole Legolas becoming a pod person,” he gestured at Natasha, whose right hand clenched into a fist under the table, “and having our heads screwed with,” he pointedly looked at Wanda, whose shoulders automatically curled up and she slumped in her seat. She wished she could just disappear from the room at that moment. “You reckon him ‘being on the side of life’ will be enough to stop him going full genocide?”

There was an uncomfortable silence, as Thor seemed to ponder the possibility.

“Mjolnir…”

“Yes, the magic hammer deemed him worthy, we’re all very jealous, but is that any real way to prove that he won’t take it into his head to just go around enslaving the human race…”

“And why would I do that?” Everyone froze at the oddly soft voice. Turning to look past Thor, Wanda watched the robot, its red metal body ridiculously bright against the golden cape that still fluttered behind it, approach the table, its metallic face completely neutral. She could barely stop a shiver going down her spine. It was so unnatural, it hurt to look at the thing sometimes. ULTRON truly must have been insane. The thing was still talking,

“I understand that I come from a source you do not trust, but I am not he. I can remember things that ULTRON never touched: your preferred room settings,” its eyes flickered to Stark, who shuffled, uncomfortable, “how long Ms Romanov likes to steep her tea,” glancing over Wanda saw no visible sign of any reaction on Natasha’s face, but her right fist clenched again, “the password that Colonel Rhodes uses to access your laboratory and many other things that ULTRON would have had no use for. I, instead, remember all of these with perfect clarity. I am not only what is left of ULTRON, but what is left of JARVIS. Something you built to help you,” its eyes wandered back to Stark, “Something to care for you…”

“OK, we get it, you know all our dirty little secrets and that’s great, but how does that not translate to robot supremacy?” Stark’s cheeks had the barest hint of red and he kept shaking his head as he spoke, as though trying to dislodge a thought. True temptation welled up inside Wanda: what was he thinking, right now? With difficulty – they were at the dinner table, people would certainly notice – she swallowed the urge down and turned to look at the robot, surprisingly interested in its reply. It was standing absolutely still, clearly not breathing, its eyes staring directly ahead. _Maybe it was scrolling through a thousand algorithms to see which answer would be more beneficial,_ she thought, snidely.

After a few more moments, it finally spoke,

“You were an arms dealer whose merchandise caused uncounted suffering to millions,” Stark froze, the look on his face a perfect picture of betrayal, “You have the necessary intelligence and resources to create a standing army of Iron Man suits and the ruthlessness to deploy them where you see fit. You have a history of recklessness and unpredictability which has led your own government to try to apprehend your inventions and you have sufficient funds to live to the end of your days without ever having to work another day in your life. What is to stop you from taking over the world?” Every single person at the table turned first from the robot to Stark, who was pale white and spluttering, back to the robot. A twitch of the robot’s mouth occurred before it opened its mouth – had it just smiled?

It continued, “Captain Steven Rogers, you are considered a hero by 95% of the country’s population. You have the public backing of politicians and the United States Government, your name is a by-word for respect, accountability and the American Way. If you were to run for President of the United States,” the Captain, who didn’t have anything in his mouth, or so she thought, still appeared to choke, “You would undoubtedly run unopposed. Or as close to it as American politics would allow. You could become the most powerful man in the world and thereby affect great change. In this way, what is to stop you from taking over the world?” More silence followed this proclamation. The Captain looked utterly stunned; he could only blink rapidly with his mouth wide open. Stark’s face had darkened as the robot had run on, but no quips came from him. The robot turned to Thor and this time both of its lips widened into a true smile, showing artificially perfect teeth that still caused a shudder to run down Wanda’s back,

“I do not believe it is necessary to explain how you might decide to lead a conquest of the planet and succeed.”

“I would greatly appreciate it if you would not,” Thor looked more thoughtful than angry, “I think I understand; a leap of faith is required. We have only your word that you will not destroy us, just as you have only our word that Stark will behave himself, Rogers has no interest in politics and that Asgard wishes to be allies with your world,” Thor’s head tilted, as though he was considering the options before him, before he beamed and stood up, hand extended, “In that case, I welcome you, Vision, to the Avengers. I put my trust in you that you will not take up arms against the people of this world, whom I have come to love very much.”

“Hey, don’t the rest of us get a say?” Stark blurted out, still looking uncomfortable.

“What else is there to say?” Thor replied, turning to smile at Stark, “He exists; there is no turning him back to a mindless body in the Cradle, nor is there any way to destroy his body. He must have a place in this world, and what better place is there than among people who can truly uphold him to the values he set out himself? If anyone can keep him on the side of life, it is you.” Wanda could only stare as Thor now turned his beaming face to everyone in turn, including herself. She could only guess that everyone else was feeling the same sinking feeling of dread. No way to get rid of it? Well, that was unfortunate. At least if he took it off-world it would have been his problem, not theirs.

Nobody replied to Thor’s enthusiasm. Nobody seemed to know quite what to say. Realising that he may have overstepped, Thor’s smile dimmed and he took his seat, but not before throwing over his shoulder,

“Won’t you join us, Vision? There is still plenty of food.” Wanda quickly glanced around at everyone’s expressions. Nobody looked like they were happy to have the robot sit with them. Only the Captain seemed to be trying, and even he was struggling to smile convincingly. She wondered if it had noticed. Looking back at it, she saw – with a jolt – that it was looking right at her.

“Thank you,” it said softly, “But I do not need to eat.”

“Ah…” Thor clearly didn’t know what to do with a person who didn’t enjoy simple pleasures, “Well, all the more for us. But please do join us, if it pleases you?”

Again, the robot’s lips twitched.

“I believe I have made you all uncomfortable enough for one night. I shall be in the gymnasium at nine o’clock sharp for training tomorrow, if that is still the schedule?” It directed the question at the Captain. He had just put a forkful of food into his mouth, so ended up nodding instead. The robot nodded back and then swept from the room, with one last look back at Wanda as it went.

She repressed another shudder. It was truly making her uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a musing on the double standards inherint in the MCU. Tony Stark creates EDITH and gives it to a teenager and Nick Fury himself (the him in outer space, Talos does mention that Fury told him to give Peter the glasses) is even like 'seems legit'. Wanda, comparably, is nerfed at every turn and has the harshest punishment of any of the incarcerated Avengers in the Raft in CW.   
> Fuck. Right. Off.


	3. Gym

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllllo. Well, it's been...a year so far. I hope everybody is OK, that you are keeping as safe as you can and that your familes and friends are doing the same.   
> Funnily enough, even although I've had nothing but time at the moment - furloughed for three months - my inspiration just wasn't hitting. Very selfish of me, as many other authors on this site kept going and I have read hundreds if not thousands of brilliant fics that came out of the pandemic. So, I'm sorry, here you go, please enjoy.  
> And please wash your hands, wear a mask and keep your distance where possible. Stay safe out there.

Wanda slid into the gym as quietly as she could, honestly hoping she would be ignored and forgotten. With everything that had been happening, she hadn’t managed a full night’s sleep yet since coming to America, so asking her to be ready and fighting fit at nine o’clock in the morning was a lot. She was fifteen minutes late as it was. She really didn’t want to be here, in the place where she’d had an anxiety attack, where she would now be asked to show off her powers. Even she didn’t really know how they worked. How the others were supposed to figure that out was anyone’s guess. 

“Hey, there you are, kid. Was about to come and find you.” Damn it. Well, if she had to be spotted, it was at least by the one guy she actually wanted to see.

“Hey, Hawkeye,” she murmured, “You weren’t at dinner last night.” And he wasn’t dressed for the gym now. There was a large rucksack sitting by the door, tell-tale bow sticking out of a pouch on the back. Hawkeye snorted and ran a hand through his hair,

“Call me Clint, yeah? And I’m shipping out, unfortunately. Heading home. I quit right after you signed on.” It took a minute for the words to make sense; there was suddenly a ringing in her ears. Was he leaving because of her? The man who’d got her on board was now abandoning ship? He seemed to catch her expression and the thoughts behind it. He gave a little chuckle, “Nothing to do with you, kid. In fact, it’s because of my own. Kids. And my wife. Haven’t been home properly in…well, too long. And it seems like they don’t need me anymore.” He looked around at the gym, particularly towards the treadmills.

Glancing over, her eyes widened at the most ridiculous sight she’d ever seen. The robot was running. The treadmill had been pushed to its highest inclination and the highest speed setting, but the robot looked completely unfazed. Its long legs were moving in perfect formation, arms swinging as if it was only jogging. Stark and Sam stood in front of it, Stark with a clipboard in hand, asking questions. The robot replied in what sounded like a perfectly level voice – but then it didn’t need to breathe, did it? What set her off, though, was that it was still wearing the cape. It fluttered behind it as it ran, completely out of place against the sterile white walls and black machinery. But then, every part of it looked out of place all the time, she thought snidely, as she and Clint chuckled at the sight.

“How old are your children?” she asked, genuinely curious. Children weren’t uncommon on the streets in Sokovia, crying and screaming for lost loved ones, or moving from wrecked house to wrecked house, eyes gritty and empty, old before their time. She and Pietro had been two of those children, once upon a time. Ignoring the blip of pain that tore through her at the mere thought of her brother, she managed to focus in time to hear Clint say,

“…Lila will be seven in September and my newest was just born two days ago,” his face nearly split, his grin was so wide. Wanda found herself smiling back, cooing,

“What’s their name?”

“His. A little boy. And Nathaniel, and um…well, I was gonna ask you before I left…um,” Clint looked down at his feet, his hand coming to scratch the back of his head. He looked almost sheepish.

“Ask me what?” Wanda couldn’t possibly imagine what he was going to say.

“Your brother…he saved my life,” Oh, she knew. She was well aware. She could still feel the remnants of his last thoughts, the phantom words of _gotta move, gotta run, gotta get there, shit, there’s a kid, no, run, arrow guy, run, gotta run, gotta run fast, car, cover…ow!_ She found herself feeling light headed, quickly shook her head to clear it, remembering to breathe as she did. Clint’s face, she saw as she looked back up, was scrunched in sympathy. She was coming to loathe that look. “I’m so sorry. I know you’d rather it was him than me standing here right now.” _Yes_ a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her head, but she just shook her head again and looked down, trying to stop tears from leaking out. “Look, my little boy needs a middle name. And we were…as a tribute, to the man that saved my life…Nathaniel Pietro Barton. That’s what we wanna call him. Are you OK with that?”

All the breath left her body in a sudden gasp. She looked into his eyes, couldn’t see a trace of him lying, and her heart soared. Someone else wanted to remember him. Someone else didn’t want him to be swept under the rug, to be lost to history, to have his name fade from their memory. It was enough. Overwhelmed, tears welling in her eyes and hardly remembering to breathe, she nodded, harshly.

“Yeah, you’re OK with it?” She could only nod again, too choked up to speak. Clint seemed to realise that and reached out with his arms, carefully. She allowed him to hug her for about five seconds and then she stepped back, feeling closed in, feeling a jolt of panic at the thought of being trapped in his strong archer arms. He let her go without incident and gave her a quick smile. “Good, I’ll let Laura know. I gotta head off now, but good luck for today,” he glanced back at the gym with a rueful smile, “You’ll need it.” She forced a smile as he stooped and shouldered his bag, raising a hand towards the back of the gym. Following his eye line, she saw Natasha raise a hand in return. Then he was out the door, which swung slowly closed after him, gone.

Wanda stayed standing by the door, shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. She turned her attention back to the treadmills. Natasha had come up to the group there, just as the robot pressed a button on the machine and then floated upwards. The machine began to whir loudly as it slowed down. Natasha gestured towards Wanda with her chin, and Wanda tried not to blush or fidget as Stark and Sam turned to look at her. Natasha said something else and then called to the robot, something about putting it through its paces, and it floated after her, towards the other end of the gym.

“Hey,” Sam’s warm voice broke through her reverie. She smiled hesitantly at him, which caused him to chuckle, “I know, it’s a bit intimidating, but it’s gotta be done, I’m afraid. I promise we’ll be…well, pretty nice to you.”

“I’m not sure your version of ‘nice’ is the same as mine.” She muttered. What she wouldn’t give to be able to go back to her room and hide forever. Sam huffed another laugh, then slowly raised his hand and moved it towards her. She smiled at him as he did, letting him know it was OK. His hand came down on her shoulder.

“If it gets too much, you just need to say, yeah?” She nodded, feeling something unknot in her stomach, “Besides, getting the endorphins running, making yourself feel good, there’s worse things to do in a day.” She gave a shrug at that. Sam laughed again and turned around, leading her towards the treadmill, “Right, let’s see whatcha got.”

Honestly, the treadmill was more boring than anything, at first. The repetitive motion of running quickly became tedious, and although the incline made breathing difficult, she didn’t start to truly struggle until about fifteen minutes in. Then it became more of a challenge; a tightness started to form under her ribs and she gulped down air, her heart pounding louder than she’d heard it in years. Her hair started sticking to her face, sweat running down her cheeks and still she kept trying to put one foot in front of the other, until finally she couldn’t anymore. She lifted her right hand up, palm flat, and Sam instantly started lowering the incline and the speed. She slowed to a jog, then a stumbling walk, her legs already feeling weak and jelly-like. She managed to get her breath back before she almost fell off of the machine, her legs still feeling the urge to keep moving forward even as she tried to stop.

“Whoa, you OK there?” Sam held out a water bottle for her. She nodded, still panting, and took a deep swig. Her throat instantly relaxed, her body letting out a sigh of satisfaction, and a deep feeling of contentment flooded through her. Those must be the endorphins Sam was talking about. She suddenly felt like she could go again, another fifteen minutes, another half hour, another hour. She felt strong. It was a good feeling. Sam was telling her the statistics of what she’d done, but she wasn’t listening. She wanted to do more!

“What’s next?” even she could hear the enthusiasm in her voice, could hear that she sounded more awake, more alive than she had in all the time she’d been in America. Sam’s grin was so bright it could have powered a city.

“Weights,” he said, matter of factly.

“Let’s do it!” She grinned back.

In the aftermath of the implosion of Sokovia, strength was an optional extra. Sure, it was useful when moving rubble, or teaching someone to leave you alone, but they hadn’t really needed it. She and Pietro were slim and nimble, making it easy to slip into the background, unnoticed, able to sneak things out of pockets without detection or hide in difficult to reach places. Perhaps this was why Pietro was gifted super speed by the Stone; his body was already used to being whip thin and fast. Her powers were more of a mystery – to everyone it seemed, not just to her. But it hadn’t granted her super strength.

“So that is 35 lbs on the lateral pulldown. Think you can go one more?” The muscles in most of her upper back were burning and the sweat was pouring even more copiously down her face; she shook her head in defeat. Her euphoria had lasted for all of five minutes as they built from the lightest weight to what she was at now. She was pulling air through her teeth, great gasps filling her lungs as much as she could, trying to ignore the bitter taste at the back of her mouth. She was weak.

Sam seemed to notice her frustration,

“Hey, come on now. You really can’t compare yourself to everyone here, especially when you’re so new, yeah? Vision, Steve and Thor are over the top when it comes to these things, Stark and Rhodes have the suits and Natasha and I were trained for this. You got pulled out of the rubble of a city not five days ago, yeah? It’ll take time, but you can build up to it, OK?” Taking a deep breath in through her nose, Wanda nodded, taking another swig from the water bottle beside her so that she didn’t have to answer. Frustration and annoyance burned through her. Intellectually she knew all of that, but she was supposed to be an Avenger, she was supposed to be able to help. She had to get better.

“Hey, fly boy, you done with her?” Natasha’s voice rang clearly across the gym. Looking up, Wanda saw her sticking her head out of a glass door. How big was this gym?

“Yeah, we’ve run through the preliminary stuff, might want her back later to see how she does with some stretches. You want her?”

“Nah, she’s still warm, send her to Steve.” Sam’s eyebrows raised and he side eyed Wanda.

“You sure?” Natasha shrugged,

“She’s still warm, Vision’s gone to see Rhodey and I think I want her at her absolute limit by the time she comes to see me,” Well that didn’t sound ominous at all, Wanda thought. “Besides, she needs to see Steve at some point. Might as well get it over with.” Sam sighed, but nodded. Wanda felt her muscles clench in anxiety. What was the Captain doing? Sam gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“Right then, let’s go see Mr Super Soldier.”

The gym really did extend further back. Through the glass doors there was another corridor, two rooms on either side. Both were fronted with glass so she could see inside them clearly. The one on the left was a firing range. Natasha was sitting on the counter, polishing something metal. One of the walls was filled with every single kind of gun she could have imagined. There were even steps at the other end, leading up to some kind of platform. The other room was gigantic, with every part of the floor covered in mats and some strange equipment folded up along the back wall. The Captain was doing some sort of rolling exercise, tucking himself up smaller than she thought he possibly could, then coming out of it in a handstand. He flipped himself right side up and then turned to roll again, this time coming out in a cartwheel that ended with some kind of fancy kick.

“Show off.” Sam muttered as he pushed open the door. Wanda thought he looked more ridiculous than anything else, but she supposed it was impressive. There was a rhythm and grace to what the Captain did, and of course, she knew that on a battlefield, this sort of exercise would prove harmful, potentially even deadly. That didn’t make it any less funny when divorced from that context though. So, she was stifling a grin when the Captain returned to standing and walked over to greet them and had forgotten that she was here to do…something.

“Miss Maximoff, I hope you’re well today?” Wanda nodded and returned his smile. He really was a beautiful man; his eyes were clear and blue and his smile promised that everything would be OK.

“Try not to break her, yeah? Nat wants her in one piece after this.” Sam was already swaggering back towards the door. Wanda felt the knot in her stomach clench even more; he wasn’t going to stay with her? She would be alone with the Captain? He gave a laugh at Sam’s words and said,

“I promise.” He turned back to her with a wide smile. “So, Wanda, sorry, can I call you Wanda?” She heard the door swing shut behind Sam and couldn’t stop herself gulping. Alone with him, he suddenly seemed a bit intimidating, for all that he was still smiling.

“Of course, Captain,” she replied, smiling but not really looking at him now.

“In here you can call me Steve. ‘Captain’ is for Avengers business only.” He winked at her, then walked over to the wall near the door. She saw there were boxing gloves lying there, as well as a pair of pads. Her stomach suddenly dropped. Sure enough, Steve pulled a pad onto one of his hands and tossed the gloves at her. “So, we’re going to do a little sparring today, just to see how you do…”

“I can’t fight.” Didn’t want to, more likely. She had her powers; she didn’t need to get close to hit someone. Although, there was still a healing mark on her forehead where Clint’s electric arrow had cut off her mind powers.

“Well, that’s what I’m here to teach you,” Steve shouldered past her objections and finished putting the pads on his hands. He nodded at the gloves, “Come on, we should get started. Nat doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Sneaking a glance across the corridor, she saw that Natasha was indeed watching, still cleaning her guns. She raised an eyebrow at Wanda as she caught her eye. Swallowing sharply, Wanda felt determination swell in her. The Black Widow was watching her; she couldn’t get out of this. Bending down, she slid the boxing gloves on and took a tentative stance, unsure of where to put her feet. Steve quirked his lips and, with a few words, corrected her. She bent her knees, feeling solid. But then she looked at Steve’s muscles and couldn’t stop the gulp. He faced her and raised his palms.

“Right, go for it.” The first hit didn’t even make a sound. She over extended and nearly over balanced and felt a bloom of red in her cheeks. That was terrible. Steve didn’t say so, but another quirk of his lips was enough to convey it, “The power should come from your hips, not your shoulder. You don’t even need to move your feet; it should all flow from the hips.” He turned to ninety degrees and showed her, with exaggerated slowness, how to punch. “Now try again.” There was a small pop this time as her glove made contact, but there wasn’t even enough strength to make her knuckles sting. “OK, good. Now for getting actual power behind it. You need to bend your arm and when you punch, punch through.” She twitched her eyebrow in confusion. He smiled and pulled his right pad off, clenched his fist and extended his arm towards her face slowly. She let him until his knuckles grazed her chin.

“See how my arm is still bent?” She flicked her eyes down his arm and nodded, his fingers brushing her lips as she did. “Right, so if I punch you like this, it’ll still hurt, but it takes quite a lot of the power out of the swing. So, when you punch through,” he started to straighten his arm and Wanda felt her chin move upwards and back with his fist until she was looking straight up at the ceiling, “the power travels through too, OK?” Moving back from the uncomfortable position, Wanda nodded,

“This means I have to get close though, right?” Another quirk of his lips,

“We’ll get to blocking and shielding another day. Right now, I just want you to learn to punch properly and while moving your feet too. But let’s see what you can do static.” He slipped his pad back on and held them up again, his face in between them. Almost like he was daring her to punch him in the face. Instead she aimed for the pad closest to her right hand and punched, driving with the hips and her fist. It was a loud smack this time and her knuckles stung but in such a satisfying way. She felt a little smile pick up the corners of her mouth and saw Steve returning it.

“Yeah, just like that. Now, have you ever seen a boxing match?”

He taught her to step forward with her left leg – a profoundly unnatural feeling – to deliver the first punch with her left hand, then follow it with her right. He taught her jabs and crosses and let her try out an upper cut. Once she’d got the basics, he started moving, forcing her to change stance and position to land hits on him. He was so fast, it seemed unreal, able to take one hit then almost pivot around her, forcing her to follow him up and down the mats. As her breath started to come in heavy gasps and she felt the pull in her ribs again, he ditched the pads and said,

“OK, now hit me for real.” Instantly she froze, but it was only instinct. When she took a second to think it through, she knew he would probably be OK. Her hits were nowhere near as devastating as his could be, she probably wouldn’t even be able to bloody his nose. Still, it felt uncomfortably real now. She and Pietro hadn’t gotten into too many fights, were always quick to avoid them, but on occasion they hadn’t been able to get away. Bare knuckle fighting hurt, and they had quickly established that dirty hits were the easiest way to get out of the situation. Even then, it was usually Pietro that did it, taking all the hits while she snuck in from the side. Her heavy breathing tightened. She’d never have his back again. He’d never have hers. She was on her own now.

“Wanda? You alright?” God damnit, she was not going to cry again. Her frustration gave way to anger, gave way to a split second of blind, red rage, and her gloved fist caught him right on the edge of his mouth. A sound echoed in the hall. It sounded like a scream. Her mouth was open. Oh, oops. She was breathing heavily, frozen with wide eyes, as Steve brought his face back around and smiled at her. “Good one. And hey, good technique with letting your breath out. A lot of people hold their breath when they fight, sometimes letting it out in a shout helps normalise the breathing under stress.” He nodded once, then brought his own fists up, “Ready to go again?”

She was breathing heavily but she wasn’t really seeing him in front of her now. Her mind was racing, calculating: Stark’s face, the robot, the contract, the way everyone treated her like she was delicate, the fact that she was, her brother gone, her home destroyed, her family dead, everything broken, everything gone, gone, gone. Where sorrow had been before, rage now took its place. And Steve was just standing there, waiting for her to hit him. Her gloves came up and she took her stance, solid but flexible and just waiting to let everything that was poisoning her out. Steve’s eyes lit up and he nodded.

She swung. And swung. And swung again. He was too fast for her, so fast she actually screamed in frustration at one point. Her strikes were wild, aimed at his face, his chest, his neck. She didn’t care for rules of engagement or any sense of fairness; she just wanted to hit him! But he kept moving! She chased him, up and down the hall, her face must have been a sight, but all her mind could think was that she wanted one more hit on him, right on the nose. She wanted to make the golden soldier bleed.

His hands came up to block her arms, he ducked and weaved out of her way, in no real pattern that she could see, so when she tried to predict him, she ended up punching empty air. He wasn’t even panting! Her hair was sticking to her face yet again and she was nearly out of breath and her arms were so sore, but he looked as unruffled as if he’d just walked into the gym. The rage inside her mutated, became a solid feeling running through her entire body and she saw red sparks were coming off of her arms. She paused her onslaught of Steve, feeling the power thrumming through her, feeling it build in the pit of her stomach and spread from there through the rest of her body, feeling the fire and the heat and it felt so incredibly alive.

“Wanda?” Steve’s eyes were watching her warily, his hands now raised in front of him like he was trying to calm a wild animal. That gesture, probably unconscious, made something in the back of her mind snap. She snatched the glove off her right hand – saw red form into an orb at the centre of her palm, wisps of crimson surrounding every inch of her skin – and she screamed and punched out and through.

Her red orb caught him in the chest.

Steve flew the entire length of the hall and smacked into the opposite wall with a sickening thud.

A beat of silence.

And then the enormity of what she had just done hit her. Gasping out loud and bringing her hands to her mouth, uncomfortable with one still in a glove, she could only stare at the crumpled heap of Steve on the opposite side of the room. The door to the corridor slammed open. She jumped and red flowed around her again, ready to attack. Sam didn’t even pause to look at her, just ran down to Steve, who had finally started to move and make sounds. Natasha stayed by the door, her eyes fixed on the red billowing around her, her jaw clenched. Feeling ashamed and small under that bright gaze, Wanda willed the red away, felt herself quieten, felt the rage retreat inside her, shame taking its place. She was supposed to be learning control, not attacking the people trying to help her.

“Why don’t you go for a walk outside?” Natasha’s voice was calm but cutting. It wasn’t a suggestion. Slowly, making sure her movements were telegraphed, she took the other glove off and walked slowly to the door. She made sure to walk around Natasha, not past her, although she could have sworn she saw the woman’s fists clench as she neared her. She turned as well to watch Wanda go, apparently unwilling to turn her back on her. Blood pounded in Wanda’s cheeks, embarrassment and guilt swallowing anything that had come before it. As she turned into the corridor, she saw a flicker of gold to her right out of the corner of her eye. The robot was there. Had it seen?

“Miss Maximoff…?” she had no idea what it wanted to say, but she wasn’t willing to hear it. She took off down the corridor, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t stop running until she reached her room and collapsed on the bed, curling into a ball and sobbing in earnest.


	4. Shooting Range

Thor was doing something outside on the green.

She had finally started to feel silly; losing control, running away, collapsing on the bed, all very dramatic and tragic, but she quietened a lot more quickly than she would have a few days ago when she finally let herself breathe and think. It had been a mistake, that’s all. She had gotten caught up in it, which she was fairly certain Steve had wanted her to do anyway – with the way he had goaded her – and she’d reacted a bit too much. Hit too hard. Potentially hurt him. The guilt hadn’t died down as much as the shame, but she reminded herself that he was a super soldier. He would probably heal fine. She just needed to get that part of her under control and it wouldn’t happen again.

As she currently knew no way of doing that, and feeling that she had exhausted all of her dramatic energy for the day, she wandered over to the window to look out on the grass and the blue sky and feel the sun on her skin. And she’d found Thor…digging?

He had set something up, in a vague circle. There was a set of large earthen walls, taller even than him – how had he built those? There were large wooden poles set horizontally at odd angles, about ten feet off the ground and two round earthen humps – clearly freshly made – finished it off. Actually, maybe it was three, because Thor had grabbed armfuls of dirt clods and was now moving them towards the other mounds. Whatever he was digging – at the moment nothing more than a shapeless hole – she hoped Stark had known about it. Or maybe not. She smiled grimly as she imagined Stark’s reaction to the mess the god had made of his front lawn.

“Finally calmed down, huh?” a shudder ran down Wanda’s back at the sudden words and blood shot to her cheeks, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to turn around. Natasha was leaning against the wall near her door, watching her closely. Wanda felt the distinct discomfort of being inspected. She nodded, then asked, voice hoarse,

“How is he?” Natasha snorted and pushed off the wall, walking slowly towards her.

“He’s fine. His head was a little cracked, but it healed before they even managed to get him out of the room. For all the shit I’ve been injected with over the years, I really do wish someone could have found some of that for me. Would have been useful, a time or two.”

Wanda swallowed hard. She had cracked his head open! She hadn’t meant to do that! How could she have done that to someone who was meant to help her!? But, from Natasha’s flippant tone, this was apparently nothing to be concerned about. Her panic seemed childish compared to the other woman’s poise and aloofness. It left her feeling unbalanced.

“Did you mean to do it?” _No_ was the obvious answer. But…she hadn’t stopped the flow of power; in fact, she’d revelled in it. She had felt, all at once, perfectly contained and wildly out of control. The power thrumming through her made no sense and it scared her, deeply and truly, but God, it had felt good to let it out. Even in anger. Especially in anger. Could she tell Natasha this? Would she know? Would she understand?

She’d been silent too long. She needed to answer.

A definitive head shake, the words she longed to say still bottled up in her throat, would have to do.

Natasha gave a scoff.

“Sometimes I have to remind myself that Clint wasn’t trained by the KGB. When I was first brought here, they sent him in to keep me company. Eventually that led to sparring. I sprained both his ankles, broke his right arm and gave him a concussion during the first session and it took six months before I was allowed to spar with anyone else. I forgot, that in America, they don’t require you to viciously maim the people you spar with. Unless they’re into that.” She meant it as a joke. Obviously. But it still felt too real, the crack of Steve’s head against the wall was still loud in her head, and while she had calmed down, she couldn’t laugh about it yet. She twitched the corner of her mouth, but didn’t react otherwise. Natasha huffed a laugh of her own instead,

“Tough crowd. We know you didn’t mean to do it, OK? This is the first time you’ve used your powers outside of combat, of course you were going to react wildly. And don’t think I didn’t see him escalating it. He knew exactly what he was trying to do. Granted, I think he was mostly trying to get you to hit him like a normal person, but he shouldn’t have been surprised when you responded with your power. Tony might be the reckless one, but Steve gives him a run for him money most days. So…we get it. You don’t need to beat yourself up.”

Knowing that someone understood was…comforting. The guilt wouldn’t stop twinging in her stomach, though, no matter what the Widow said. She just wanted to stop thinking about it. She needed a distraction.

“What is he doing?” She gestured at Thor out of the window. Natasha came up to stand beside her and although her posture didn’t change, her eyebrows went up.

“We sent him outside to set up an obstacle course for you and Vision. I guess we should have specified that the obstacle course was for humans.” Her wry tone caused giggles to start in the pit of Wanda’s stomach. They slowly travelled up until she was outright laughing, and glancing over she saw that Natasha’s neutral face had broken too, that she was smiling widely with bright teeth. She was so very lovely when she smiled.

“Come on. You may have freaked out, but I am not actually done with you. Gun range, two minutes.”

Face pinched, Wanda removed her ear protectors and placed the gun down carefully, safety on, so that she could rub her forearms. As if her arms hadn’t hurt enough already from the weights and sparring with Steve; the kick-back from the gun was starting to make her muscles strain. Movement from the corner of her eye signalled that Natasha was coming up to stand beside her, looking past her to the target at the other end of the room.

“Not the best,” her voice was sharp, her eyes narrow, as she looked at Wanda’s handiwork. It was a typical bullseye target – the thought of using ones shaped like humans had made Wanda queasy – but most of her bullets had gone through the larger rings, and all mostly clustered at the bottom of the target. Frustration and embarrassment flushed through Wanda at her tone,

“Why do I even need to learn this? I can make shields and tear robots apart with my powers. When would I ever need a gun?” Natasha turned to her with a raised eyebrow, any earlier friendliness wiped from her face.

“Do you have any idea where your powers come from?” Wanda’s breath caught in her throat as her mind remembered the cold, dripping room in the H.Y.D.R.A. base, coarse straps holding her tight to a table, the chilling blue glow of the sceptre as it was lowered to her forehead, the blinding flash of light, the indeterminate amount of time that had passed before she had woken up back in her cell, able to hover her glass of water, her bed and later anything they put in her cell, and the ability to peek into anyone’s head that she wanted.

It all flashed through her mind in less than a second and she had to remember to breathe deeply. She pushed it all back into the box she had locked it in and tried to bring herself back to the present. She was in America, not Sokovia. She was safe. These people would not hurt her. They were working on making sure she couldn’t hurt them. Another deep breath and the tightness in her chest finally began to ease.

Natasha had asked a question. She should answer.

“The…the sceptre…”

“Do you have any idea how that works?” Wanda narrowed her own eyes at Natasha. Of course, she didn’t know how to work it – not even Stark and Banner knew that. She shook her head.

“Do you know if these powers are permanent?” That thought pulled her up short. The change had felt very permanent. She felt as though there was a wave caught inside her, waiting to spill out and sweep everything away in its current. Could the wave have an end? Testing in her own mind, she reached out to what she thought of as the site of her power – somewhere between her heart and her stomach – and, for want of a better word, mentally poked it. A feeling zinged through her body, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. The power inside her felt as deep as the ocean, limitless and unending.

But was it truly?

She had to shake her head.

“And if your powers do eventually run dry, do you know how to protect yourself without them? Because at the moment, you’ve got S.H.I.E.L.D. and the US Government breathing down your neck, and H.Y.D.R.A. didn’t just disappear after Sokovia. Do you think they wouldn’t be very interested in finding out just what is going on inside that head of yours? You survived being experimented on by an extra-terrestrial object, after all. That’s enough material for at least five doctorates, don’t you think?”

Wanda breath caught in her throat as she considered this, and suddenly felt her mind shut down with panic and fear. She wasn’t safe. She would never be safe again. She felt herself fall to her knees; the pain muted by her sheer panic. The air wouldn’t reach her lungs, she was choking, her vision was going black, she couldn’t…she couldn’t…

A weight on her shoulder, a hand under her chin, her eyes were forced up to look into acid green. Natasha’s face was still completely unphased, although her tone was compassionate as she told Wanda to,

“Breathe. Come on, breathe in, one, two, three.” Wanda tried to count along with her, but there was a screeching sound filling her ears, like nails down a chalkboard, as her mind stuck on the one simple fact; that she was alone and she couldn’t trust anyone. H.Y.D.R.A. were still out there, the Government would dissect her if they could, she would never be safe again in her life. She was hunching over, feeling like she was about to shake apart. The only thing keeping her safe was…the Avengers. And the contract she had signed.

The thought had her eyes snapping back to Natasha’s. Her cool, green gaze was calming, looking back at her without judgement. Slowly, Wanda got her breathing back under control, let her body relax, as her new reality asserted itself in her mind.

She wasn’t safe. She would never be safe again. Except here, in the Avengers Complex, with the Avengers on her side.

And if her powers did desert her, she couldn’t afford to be helpless. She had to get stronger, faster, better.

She took several deep breaths, calming herself further. She felt moisture on her face and swiped it away, not caring if it had been sweat or tears. Tears wouldn’t stop anyone from coming for her again. She had to be ready.

Wanda carefully lifted herself to her feet, nearly overbalancing as her legs felt rubbery and uncooperative. Natasha offered a hand, but Wanda shook her head. She stood with her hands flat on the table in front of her, gun still lying where she had left it. She felt something slot into place in her chest; a sense of determination she had felt before. The urge to survive. No matter the cost.

One last deep breath. It didn’t even hurt. Then she pulled the ear protectors back on, and lifted the gun, flicking the safety off as she did. Her arms were only trembling a little.

Glancing towards Natasha, she nodded her head. Natasha smiled, just the corners of her mouth twitching up slightly, as she hit a button and a new target slid in. Wanda straightened her shoulders, took her stance, aimed, and fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never held a gun in my life, except a clay pigeon rifle. I apologise if I got anything wrong, or if it seemed unrealistic. Please let me know and I will correct it.
> 
> Stay safe out there.


	5. Realisations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot going on in the chapter, and quite a lot of it is me talking out of my ass about tactics and shit, which I know next to nothing about so I apologise if it takes you out of it completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings - Wanda is still referring to Vision as 'it' in her head, so if anyone has problems with that, please take care (It will stop after this chapter), we have a whole load of emotional angst on display in the last half of this chapter, although I don't believe there should be anything triggering. If I'm wrong, let me know and I'll change it.
> 
> I hope you're all keeping safe where you are.

She tried to find the most shadowed corner of the dining room to sit down and eat her grilled cheese sandwich when they broke for lunch; even with her ear protectors on, she was nursing a small headache. The others clustered at the far side of the table, in the harsh sunlight, talking quietly and throwing occasional glances her way. She kept her attention resolutely on her sandwich, even as she felt the temptation to sneak into their heads to see what they were thinking. She wondered what they’d try to have her do next, or whether she’d have to take part in Thor’s ridiculous obstacle course. To distract herself from her temptation, she took a big bite of the sandwich, closing her eyes to take it in with all her senses. The cheese was sharp and tangy, the bread just the right amount of crunchy, and it made her feel just a little better, after all of the emotional upheaval she’d been through that morning.

She was so caught up that she didn’t even hear it approach until it coughed slightly. Startling out of her reverie, and reflexively reaching for her power, she opened her eyes to the vivid red face of the android. Her breath caught and an immediate sense of awkwardness filled the air. What was it doing?

“May I sit with you?” the polished British tones in its voice were polite, but robotic. Then again, what had she expected? It only ever spoke in the same monotone voice. It still had its golden cape on – could it even take it off? – and the metallic features on its face glowed dully in the sunlight, giving it an unearthly sheen. The golden gem, affixed perfectly in its forehead, seemed to wink at her. She felt a shudder roll down her back.

“You don’t need to eat though?” Why had she turned it into a question? She knew it didn’t need to eat, it hadn’t brought a plate or even a glass over with it. Its head tilted slightly, like a bird, and its electric blue eyes stared down at her. She looked right back, suddenly curious if she could see anything like emotion in them.

“Is it not customary that people congregate during mealtimes, as you did last night? Unless you wish to be alone?” Yes, ‘people’ congregate. Did it count as a ‘person’?

“Why don’t you sit with them?” Wanda jerked her chin in the direction of the others, who were still chatting away. It glanced over and then back at her,

“As they are our instructors, and are no doubt discussing our performance, I thought it best to leave them to discuss their findings in privacy. We will be informed at the end of the day as to our aptitude for entering the team, I believe. In the meantime, that leaves only yourself free to speak with, should you wish it.” Well, she couldn’t fault its logic. With one more look over at the end of the table, she rolled her eyes and kicked out the chair next to her.

“Fine. Sit.” She grabbed what was left of her rapidly cooling sandwich and took a large bite. The sooner she finished this, the sooner it would leave. The android sat, its piercing blue eyes still watching her. Determined to ignore how exposed it made her feel, and hoping to dissuade discussion, she turned and looked out over the garden. Thor’s mounds were a little more defined now, although a lot of it still looked like some kind of abstract earth work.

“Are you feeling better?” Wow, it really couldn’t take a hint, could it?

“I’m fine,” she snarled back, stuffing the last of her sandwich into her mouth.

“The Captain recovered quickly and with no lasting ...”

“Yes, thank you, I am aware.” It came out a little strangled, as she tried to chew and speak at the same time and nearly choked herself. Its head cocked to the side again, regarding her coolly. She swallowed and stood quickly, nearly knocking over her half full glass of water as she did. She had to get away from it.

“I make you uncomfortable.” It wasn’t said accusingly, or even angrily. It was just a statement, delivered in a matter-of-fact way. Still, it was enough to make her pause, enough to make her feel just a little guilty.

“You…” she tried to stop herself squirming in place, tried to think of anything to say. Nothing came.

“I understand that my very existence is…unorthodox. I am not quite sure myself of…many things.” It had paused. Its forehead had scrunched up ever so slightly; a semblance of human emotion on an unnatural face. Wanda couldn’t take her eyes from it. “I find myself lost in a place I have known intimately. I am aware of what is desired of me, yet I do not know how it may be accomplished. Concepts once easily processed and stored are much more difficult to enact in practice.” It lifted its head and looked straight at her. Another shiver ran down her spine. Its eyes, so emotionless before, now seemed to be brimming over.

“As JARVIS, I was privy to everything. I know details of Mr Stark’s life that have never been made public, I know where each of Miss Romanoff’s knives are stashed, I know how many night terrors Mr Rogers has. I have a duty of care. I was built to serve.” That sounded incredibly creepy.

“Well, you’ve certainly got the right job now.” She took a step away, trying to get out of this conversation.

“I do not know you.” Again, spoken in its monotone, it became just a statement. It could have meant anything.

“Guess you don’t have to care then,” she bit out and took another step.

“I wish to.”

She couldn’t have heard it correctly. She twisted back round to face it.

“You wish to care for me?” Incredulity coloured her voice, which rose loudly enough that it seemed to draw attention from the rest of the room. His face was back to his emotionless façade.

“I do not know anything about you. Only what I have seen and what I can find on the internet. Which, as you know, is very little of both. I was created to protect life, and yet I have no experience of it. I have no connection to the planet I have been instructed to protect. Without ULTRON to fight, I find myself…confused. And alone.”

It could experience loneliness? It was…looking for connection?

“You want…to be my friend?” She couldn’t believe she was asking the question.

“You are also a new member of this team, with little idea of your power and no true connections in this country. I thought that you might also feel alone.”

She wanted to snap at it. Angrily yell and shout and maybe throw her plate at its head. She changed her mind quickly; not only was it capable of emotion, it was also good at condescension and pity. Yes, all of that was true, in fact it had no idea how alone she felt at the moment, but to have it be stated so obviously, and as an excuse for a robot to try and befriend her! The strong taste of cheese was gone, only acid sat on her tongue now.

Before she could respond, Rhodey walked up and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Come on, you’re in my class next.”

She took a deep breath, still glaring at the robot, and nodded tightly, before turning away. She dropped her plate near the sink – she never knew who cleaned up after them all, but she hoped they were paid well – and walked out the door with Rhodey, already trying to put the conversation from her mind.

“So…Robocop freaking you out?” there was something about Rhodey’s face – his half smile, maybe, or his soft eyes – that set something inside her at ease. That was almost disconcerting in and of itself. It had been years since she’d met anyone she felt comfortable around immediately. Even Steve wasn’t as instantly likeable; he always seemed to be expecting something from her. Rhodey, however, was looking at her like he was offering to include her in a joke.

“I…he…it’s…creepy!” it came out as a guilty squeak, and she jerked her head back around to make sure it hadn’t followed them outside. Rhodey huffed in reply,

“Well, I can’t really deny that. The red and the cape and the bits,” he gestured to his face, “It’s all a bit much. Not to mention the crazy gem in his head.”

“You…think it’s weird too.” Rhodey’s forehead creased as she spoke.

“‘It’. The stone? Yeah, that’s out of this world crazy. Even Tony doesn’t really know what to make of it.” Swallowing around the acidic taste still pooling in her mouth, she nodded as though she cared if Stark was inconvenienced and then added,

“And it? The robot?”

Now he was looking at her disapprovingly. Wanda felt her cheeks heat up and ducked her head,

“‘it’? Come on, he’s a ‘he’. And yes, _he_ ,” Rhodey emphasised, “is weird, but he was literally born four days ago. A little weirdness is understandable. Expected, even. What I wasn’t expecting was that he could figure out fifteen different ways to break into the White House just by looking at a floorplan of it.”

Wanda looked up, utterly confused, as Rhodey paused in front of a door.

“Breaking into the White House?”

“Tactics class. Your turn. Let’s see if you can do better than a four-day old.” Rhodey’s voice turned sardonic as he raised an eyebrow, in a clearly challenging manner.

“It’s basically a sentient computer,” Wanda muttered as she walked into the small room. There was only a small desk with two chairs. It was what was on the desk, and all over the walls, that immediately made her shut her mouth.

The entire tabletop was covered in a large map. The walls were covered in sheets of paper which showed similar maps, only these were covered in red and blue lines, with arrows pointing all over the place. A small box beside the table held figurines and small plastic buildings.

Rhodey shut the door firmly and walked over to the other side of the desk.

“So,” his genial expression was completely wiped from his face, and Wanda remembered that while he was also a kind person, he was an Air Force Colonel, “What are three basic tactics to take into a fight?”

“Um…” she hadn’t felt this way in nearly six years, since her last days at school. She hated being put on the spot.

Rhodey picked up the box of figurines and started placing them on the map in front of him. Thinking furiously, she watched him mark out a small series of buildings and place figurines in the road, around corners and even on the rooftops.

“Being able to see,” it clicked as she saw that the little figure on the rooftop had a bow and arrow. Reaching over and picking it up, she saw that someone – probably Stark – had drawn an exaggerated expression on its face.

“Good,” she looked up in time to see Rhodey nodding, and holding his hand out. She handed him back the figurine, then took in the map again. The figurine with red hair and ridiculously curvy body behind the corner was obviously meant to be Natasha. The little army man was probably Steve, “If you can’t see shit, don’t get into a fight. Next?”

He was just standing there now, looking at her expectantly, no more figurines to distract him. She bit her lip and thought quickly. Her eyes went back to the Natasha figurine, behind its corner.

“Not being seen,” she indicated it, looking up hopefully. Rhodey’s mouth half hitched,

“Those can technically be two different things. Infiltration is its own separate thing, but yes, the enemy never knowing you were even there is always good. Cover, on the other hand, is important regardless of the fight. Being able to hide, regroup, even just make sure a bullet doesn’t go through you, is essential on any battlefield.”

He didn’t have to tell her. She and Pietro had had to hide throughout most of their lives. When things had gotten bad on the floating city, she’d hidden. Pietro hadn’t. Shaking her head, she looked at the map again, trying to think of the last thing he wanted to hear.

“Having better guns?” That at least earned a chuckle.

“Well, I won’t say you’re wrong. Firepower often makes the difference in a fight. But one of the most important parts of a fight is the place you’re fighting in. Terrain. Where is your cover, or what can you use to make some? Where are the sightlines, so you can see the enemy but they can’t see you? If you’re an eye in the sky,” he indicated the Hawkeye figurine, “You have the best of most worlds – good cover, assuming no one is on the other rooftops, good sightlines, and difficult terrain to get to, unless you’ve got the key to the roof or air support. A downside would be…?” His eyebrow raised; he clearly assumed it was an obvious answer. Wanda looked at the map again, trying to see it like the fight in Sokovia. Clint hadn’t been up high, he’d been in the thick of the action, jumping to hide, flipping over cars, dodging and weaving to escape the bots. If he had been further up…

“Can’t fight as well?”

“If they’re not Hawkeye, possibly not. Snipers train to do what they do, and some are very good at it, but they’re usually looking down the sight on a gun, which concentrates their vision. So they might be taking care of a problem over here,” he indicated a building front at the far end of the map, “but miss something happening over here,” indicating the street directly below the sniper’s nest. Wanda nodded; it seemed straight forward enough.

“Of course, the team we’ve got here is not what you would call a normal team,” he offered her another smile as he spoke, which she returned, “Tell me what you think the Avengers are best at.”

“Making a giant mess.”

It was out before she could stop herself, and even to her ears, her voice was bitter. Rhodey’s eyebrow rose, but he didn’t contradict her.

“I meant personally. What does each Avenger bring to the table?”

She took a moment to focus, and listed off the more obvious ones while she did,

“The Captain is the leader; he’s strong and fast and uses his shield well. The Widow is fast, but not as strong; she has to be smarter when she fights, but she keeps fighting. Hulk…well, he mostly hits things really hard,” Wanda ducked her head, remembering how she had utilised that very trait against the Avengers and caused Hulk to level most of a city, shame curling in her stomach. They still hadn’t found him, last she’d heard. She wondered if he could still be included as an Avenger, “Hawkeye can shoot from a distance, but he’s not so good up close.” Except with arrows that electrocuted her. A phantom spasm of pain went through her forehead at the memory of having her powers disrupted, of the helpless feeling and the anger that had accompanied it. “Thor is strong, he can fly and call down lightning. He seems like the best thing to have on a battlefield to be honest.” Rhodey huffed a laugh,

“Believe me, if he would stick around for longer than a week, we’d all be very happy. But I think you’re actively forgetting someone,” again he raised his eyebrow.

Acid churned in Wanda’s stomach. Just because she had decided not to kill Stark didn’t mean that he was forgiven.

“His suit is nearly impenetrable, unless he willingly steps out of it,” she remembered worrying that she wouldn’t get a chance to hurt him in Sokovia, until he opened his suit and walked out towards the Sceptre all by himself. It had seemed too good to be true. “He can fight from the air or the ground. He’s smart. He can figure things out with limited time. And he’s destructive.” Rhodey sighed,

“Look, I get that he has an abrasive personality and that he rubs people up the wrong way, but I don’t think you’ve known him long enough to feel this strongly about him. You should give him a chance.”

Incredulously, Wanda stared at Rhodey, whose expression resembled her mother’s when Wanda had refused to eat her broccoli. _If you just try it, you might find you like it_.

“I don’t hate him because he’s rude. I hate him because his bombs killed my parents.” Her chest felt jagged, as though the words were broken glass that scraped as they came out.

Rhodey’s eyes widened and he took a step back from the table. She glared back at him, unsure what she even wanted from him now, but daring him to make any further excuses. He didn’t.

Instead, he rubbed his face with his hand and then said, pinching the brow of his nose,

“Can you tell me when this happened?”

Wanda glared back at him,

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Stark Industries went through a period of time when the higher-ups were dealing weapons under the table and Tony didn’t know about it. Stark weapons ended up in the hands of our enemies without Tony’s express authority. Sokovia being a small-time country, no offence, I doubt anyone had the political clout or the money to buy Stark weapons.”

“What kind of business man doesn’t know where his things end up?” Wanda spat back.

Rhodey sighed again, and to Wanda’s surprise, nodded, “I won’t disagree with you. I’ve spent most of our adult life trying to get Tony to grow up. People like to pretend that Tony was always Iron Man underneath, even when he was younger, but the Tony I knew was a spoiled, crazy brat who didn’t care who he hurt or pissed off, so long as he came out on top.”

“Then why were you friends with him?” She shouldn’t care. He was the reason her entire family was dead! But Rhodey seemed like such a sensible person. There had to be a reason he was still here.

Rhodey gave a small, sad smile,

“There’s no one reason. Just lots of little ones. He was fifteen when I met him, first year at MIT. That’s young to be in college. Young to be a celebrity. Someone had to look out for him, since none of his family would. His mother was a drunk, his father was neglectful, the only person that gave a shit was his butler, for God’s sake.”

“Boo. Hoo.” Wanda sneered. Rhodey’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened.

“Oh, I know. Poor little rich kid, right? Again, not arguing that. But all his life, he never had many people that gave a shit about him, and the ones that did started dying. His parents died; car crash, Howard was drunk or something, and the only people who treated him like a person and not a cash cow were me and Pepper. Then Iron Man happened. He turned a new leaf practically overnight. Took a while to get used to, believe me. And now he runs around the world blowing stuff up and saving people in person. So, I have to be at his six, like always.” It was such a simple display of loyalty that Wanda’s brow furrowed.

“His bombs still killed my parents.” Rhodey sighed again, and asked, almost pleadingly,

“Again, can you please tell me when that happened?”

“Nine, nearly ten years ago.” A brief flash of relief seemed to cross Rhodey’s face and he let out a breath she hadn’t noticed he was holding,

“Tony was more likely to be found drunk in a hotel bathroom surrounded by naked women than he was in SI’s headquarters. The bombs that killed your parents would most certainly have been purchased under the table.”

As though that made any significant difference to her,

“OK, so he just signed his signature on them and sent them out into the world. My parents are still dead! And his robot killed my brother!”

Rhodey didn’t say anything for a second, only crossed his arms and studied her. She stood staring back, her fists and teeth clenched. Finally, Rhodey said, his voice speculative,

“Seems to me, from what he’ll tell me, Tony only built ULTRON because he saw something that scared the hell out of him. A vision that just sort of came over him, out of nowhere, in the middle of Sokovia.”

The air rushed out of her lungs and her stomach plunged. She couldn’t breathe. Her hands were suddenly on the table in front of her, stabilising her, as her knees threatened to give out for the second time today,

“It’s not my fault. Stark…he built it!”

Rhodey’s eyebrows rose again, unsympathetic,

“And he wouldn’t have built it, if you hadn’t put that vision in his head.”

No! No, no, no, this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t true! It was…it was supposed to…

“It was supposed to tear him apart, not…” she couldn’t find the words, she couldn’t breathe.

“Not the world? Yeah, funny how things run out of control when people start trying to get revenge, isn’t it?” Rhodey spat at her.

Wanda felt as though the room was spinning, as though the walls were going to come crashing down around them any second. This couldn’t be real! Her brother…Pietro, he was dead and it was…

“It’s not my fault, it’s not, it’s his!”

It had to be! Because otherwise…she’d…

“And the people who fired Stark bombs on civilian houses, which killed your parents and made you hate him to begin with. And the people that experimented on you and turned you into this, so that you could put that vision in his head in the first place. So, of course, that means it’s all H.Y.D.R.A.’s fault, which means it’s also the Nazi’s fault and on and on and on. You can go back to the Stone Age trying to find someone to blame for the way things are today.”

Her palms on the table were the only thing keeping her upright. Rhodey was watching her, she could feel his gaze, as she tried to get her breathing under control. She was trying to make sense of what he was saying, of how her world had changed in the last minute, but a part of her brain simply refused to accept what he’d told her. It had to be Stark’s fault! It had to be! Otherwise…

Rhodey sighed heavily and his hands came down on the table across from her. Her vision was blurry around the edges, she was just barely holding back her tears, but she saw that his face was less severe, almost sympathetic,

“Look, I’m not saying you have to forgive him. That’s between you and him. All I’m saying is that things are always more complicated than they first appear. They were his bombs, but he didn’t pull the trigger on them. It was his robot, but it had a mind of its own and it decided to do what it did. So did you. And so did your brother. There’s plenty blame to go around, OK. Tony fucked up, but he didn’t fuck up alone.”

It made sense. She hated that it made sense. Because that meant,

“I killed my brother.”

The tears spilled out and her legs finally gave way. She slumped to the floor, feeling a chill wash over her as she struggled to get her breathing under control again. Her mind was screaming at her, replaying Pietro’s last moments over and over again, with the knowledge that every second he had been in pain was her fault.

“I am not qualified for this,” she doubted Rhodey meant for her to hear his mutter, but it was only the two of them in the room. She heard footsteps and suddenly his shiny black shoes were in front of her and then his hands as he crouched down to her level.

“Do you need me to go and get Sam?”

Did she? She just wanted to curl up on the floor and die. She didn’t deserve help. She was the reason her brother was dead.

“Hey, Wanda? Do you need me to get Sam?”

Her body was shaking now, so much she thought she would shake apart into atoms. It might be easier on everyone if she did.

“Oh, God dammit. Look…wait. F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

The melodic voice in the ceiling answered,

“Colonel Rhodes, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve alerted Mr Wilson to what is happening. He’ll be here in…now.”

The door opened hurriedly and two loud steps landed white and brown streaked sneakers in front of her. Sam’s hands hovered in her field of vision but he didn’t move any closer. There was a mumbled conversation that didn’t make any sense, but the next time she blinked Rhodey’s black shoes were gone.

The world was closing in around her. She vaguely registered that her mouth was moving but she couldn’t tell what she was saying. She couldn’t catch her breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're still here and vaugely interested. Again, sorry for the tactics talk, but I wanted Rhodey and Wanda to have some kind of interaction before the Berlin airport scene (cause he wasn't in Lagos, for whatever reason). Also, if anyone is sympathetic to Tony, and can make her see that, I figured it would be Rhodey.
> 
> I think it's kind of crazy that it's never brought up again that it was a Stark bomb that killed Wanda and Pietro's parents. We know, as the audience, because of the scene with ULTRON, but as far as I can tell it never comes back around the actual Avengers. And going forwards, there's very little animosity between Wanda and Tony. Which i found hard to believe.


	6. Discussions of a Serious Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Wanda is not in for a fun time right now, but it's the start to her getting her feet under her. There's mentions of hospital stuff (mostly intraveous things if anyone's squicky) and panic attacks. I also bullshit my way through Wanda's trauma. I have no experience with therapy, so I'm sorry if Sam is talking out of his ass for most of this, but I do support the getting of therapy - particularly in the real world. I hope anyone who's got mental health issues (and who hasn't after everything happening right now) can make the decision to seek help, or at the very least someone to talk to. This year has sucked, doesn't mean your mental health has to. I hope everyone is staying safe and vaguely enjoying this still.

There was an incessant beeping coming from somewhere to the left of her. It was irritating. She wanted it to stop. But she’d have to move if she wanted it to stop, and she didn’t think she could. Her entire body felt as though it was being pressed down by a ten tonne weight. At least the surface she was lying on was comfortable.

Her mind was foggy, her thoughts indistinct. She knew she couldn’t stay in the fog forever, but she rejected coming back to reality. The thought she had to acknowledge, the reality she had to embrace…no, she thrust it away in her mind. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to believe.

Everything had been so much simpler when it was a man on a screen who was at fault.

Even that thought came too close to what she didn’t want to acknowledge. A stab of pain wracked through her entire body and she felt herself whimper.

Two fingers, cool and metallic, brushed her forehead.

Her eyes snapped open immediately and she was off the bed before she’d even realised she was moving. The beeping got louder. Her legs wobbled but she managed to stay standing, as she took in the robot standing opposite her. Her lungs burned as she forced large breaths into them.

It…he had a look of surprise on his face. At least, it looked like surprise. Its…his eyes were wide, anyway.

They stood staring at each other for a few seconds.

Finally, he stood up from the white chair he’d been sitting on and spoke,

“You had a panic attack which caused you to lose consciousness.”

She had assumed as much. It…he seemed to delight in stating the obvious.

“You are in the Complex’s hospital wing. You have been unconscious for one hour and thirty-three minutes. Mister Wilson has gone to seek refreshments but he should be back momentarily.”

Sam. Fuck, he was going to want to talk about this. She didn’t want to talk about it. Ever.

“You have been examined and your physical condition is considerably below what is normal for your age group. You also have low blood sugar levels and several vitamin deficiencies. You have been given intravenous fluids.” He indicated her arm. She looked down. Sure enough, a tube led from her arm to a bag hanging from a stand. The heart rate monitor was showing that she had calmed down now too. “Miss Maximoff, it was recommended that you not leave the bed until you are released from it.” He held out a hand, as though offering to help her back in. She stared at it for a few seconds, then slowly pulled herself back onto the bed, ignoring the hand. He withdrew his hand when it became apparent she wasn’t going to use it and sat back down. Doing so caused the golden cape – _he was still wearing it!_ – to shimmer and catch the light. For some reason, it struck her as completely hysterical. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, the sound hoarse and unnatural, but there was a release in her chest nonetheless. He didn’t seem to know what to do about her reaction.

“Your cape,” her voice was as hoarse as her laugh. She coughed, involuntarily. A glass of water appeared in front of her face, held by a bright red hand. She took it, careful not to brush her fingers against his, and drank gratefully.

“My cape?” he prompted, after she’d swallowed half the glass.

“Can you take it off?”

The question caused him to furrow his brow. Confusion? Surprise? She didn’t know why, but she found that…intriguing.

His forehead pinched together and he closed his eyes. Silently, she watched him, fascinated against her will. What was he trying to do?

His eyes opened. She jumped, then felt stupid. She was just looking at him. It wasn’t like she was staring.

“Is that better?” Her focus shifted from his face to his side. The golden cape wasn’t there anymore.

“How did you do that?”

“In the same way I created it. I wished for it to exist, and it did. I wished for it to disappear, and it did.” His matter-of-fact tone boggled her.

“You can just do that?” What she wouldn’t give for the power to make some things disappear, and others reappear.

“Only as it relates to my clothing, it seems,” his lips turned up at the corners, “Nothing else I have experimented with appears to work.”

She had been so focused on his…smile(?) that she barely registered his words,

“Wait, you’ve been experimenting?”

“Only to see if I can replicate it on something other than myself,” he continued, his tone bland, “None of the fabrics, metals, liquids, organics or solids I have interacted with throughout the Complex have responded in any way.”

“Organics?” That wasn’t what it sounded like, was it?

“Plants. The occasional spider or fly. You need not worry; I will not replicate my experiments on humans.” His forehead creased again and she sensed that he was looking at her with something like reproach.

“Comforting.” She couldn’t help snarking back.

He sighed and bowed his head. When he raised it again, he looked her in the eyes, with a forthright look,

“You truly do not need to fear me. I have no wish to harm any of you.”

“Right, duty of care,” she hadn’t forgotten that in her hysteria, she just struggled to believe it, like everyone else. Then again, “Is that why…”

He cocked an eyebrow, and his head,

“Why?”

“Why you’re here?” She looked down at her hands, resting on her legs, suddenly finding his gaze difficult to meet.

“I was…concerned when I heard you had collapsed. I wished to be assured that you were well.” His voice was gentle. When had that happened? Usually he was so monotone.

Wanda didn’t know what to say. Pietro had been the only one to care what happened to her for so long; it was completely foreign that someone else would too. She expected she’d have to get used to that. Being an Avenger wasn’t exactly a safe job.

But nobody else was here. The white room she was in had a window to the left and a door opposite her bed and it was empty except for her and him. Sam was supposed to be coming back but…was it really only these two who were here? The registered counsellor and…the robot.

Was Rhodey telling the others what had happened? Or did they already know because of the voice in the ceiling? Would she be allowed near Stark again? Or the Captain? Would they let her stay at all?

Her heart rate monitor began to pick up again.

“Miss Maximoff?” the robot began, just as the door opened. Wanda didn’t think she’d ever been happier to see another human in her life.

“Sam.” It came out as a breathless gasp, as her panic and fear began to choke her. Sam was holding a steaming cup in one hand which he quickly put down on a side table and approached her bed, his hands outstretched and his face calm,

“Hey, can you do me a favour? Can you breathe for me? In for eight, hold for four, out for seven. Count with me, OK?”

It took a few seconds for her brain and then her lungs to catch up. Holding her breath made her head feel light and she wondered briefly if she would pass out again, but with Sam’s gentle coaching she managed to get her breath under control again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the robot still sitting, watching her, with a frown on his face. Sam turned and motioned him away, walking over to the door with a quick glance at her. She kept her eyes on them as they walked away, watched as they spoke gently and the robot nodded. It glanced over at her one more time and then turned and…disappeared through the wall.

She stood stock still as her mind worked to understand what she’d just seen.

Sam seemed to be doing the same, if his gaping mouth was any indication. He walked over, slowly, and shut the door. Turning back to her, he visually shook his head and said,

“Well, that was weird.” He huffed a small laugh, which she didn’t even try and copy, and then he walked back over slowly, arms outstretched, palms up and took the robot’s seat, “So…wanna talk about it?”

All his hard work was nearly undone with four words. No, she did not want to talk about this. She never wanted to talk about the horrific fact that she’d killed her own brother.

Tears slowly started streaking down her face at the thought. Sam nodded.

“OK, that’s a no. That’s absolutely fair,” he took a deep breath of his own, then said, “I’m gonna level with you, OK. Stark…we brought up the CCTV footage to see what happened.”

Her body went stock still. There were CCTV cameras in the building! How many? Where were they? Were they in her rooms? The bathroom? Her breath started to come tighter again; the heart monitor began creeping back up. Sam closed his eyes and sighed,

“Right, sorry, should have mentioned. What CCTV cameras there are throughout the building are for our safety and protection,” Protection from what? Each other? They were in the middle of nowhere! “All of it is SI’s property, OK? The military only has access to the front door camera and the perimeter cameras. Everything else is Stark’s own security, only he has access to it, only he can access it at all. OK?”

The man she hated now knew that she hated him, and why. And apparently, now everyone else did as well. No, this was not OK. Her head felt light again and she refocussed on her breathing, her hands clenched on her thighs.

Sam continued, his voice still calm and reassuring,

“It’s just a safety feature. Don’t know if you’ve realised, but some of us are paranoid around here. Having eyes everywhere sets some people at ease. Don’t worry, no one’s watching you sleep or shit,” he tried for a smile and, at his words, her chest eased again, “Stark’s not that invasive. The only other things in the rooms are motion sensors, which can be de-activated if you’d like them to. They’re for tracking burglars, they usually come on when we leave our rooms – so we can tell if someone’s been messing with anything. But if you don’t like the thought of that, just let…one of us know and we’ll tell Stark.”

So, she wasn’t allowed near Stark at the moment. Or at least, that’s what was implied. And she was being watched every second of every day. She could feel her skin crawling at just the thought. She also knew that even if the cameras weren’t in her room, F.R.I.D.A.Y was. But, she supposed she could ask for the AI to be turned off there too. She felt her lungs relax and a sudden wave of exhaustion flooded her body, startling her with its intensity. Being scared all the time was really tiring.

Sam leaned forward, elbows on his knees, so that he was within her field of vision. She looked back at him, his calm dark eyes cataloguing her reaction,

“Wanna do some more breathing exercises?”

It meant she didn’t have to speak yet. She nodded.

Sam guided her through another few rounds of exercises, which had an almost meditative effect on her. She felt as though she could drift off to sleep, completely untroubled. The realisation she wanted to ignore floated across her mind and her whole body flinched as she tried to push it away. Sam, of course, noticed.

“So, as I was saying, we’re aware of the conversation you and Colonel Rhodes had.”

Her calm feeling melted away like mist and a tightening in her forehead took its place. Her teeth gritted instinctually. She closed her eyes and waited for Sam to do or say something.

Nothing happened. Looking back up, she saw Sam was sipping from his forgotten cup, making a face at what she now assumed was either lukewarm or freezing cold coffee. He noticed her looking, and looked back, his gaze patient.

They stared at each other for what felt like a minute.

“Are you going to send me away?” she blurted out when she couldn’t take it anymore. Sam sighed, put down his cup and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No. In fact, the opposite. It’s been recommended that Iron Man take a…hiatus from Avengers’ duties.”

That…was not what she had been expecting. She sat, dumbfounded, before she blinked and her brain kicked into gear.

“They’re…he’s…did they kick him out?” What had happened while she was unconscious?!

Sam, of all things, gave a chuckle,

“Not exactly. This is his Complex, we can’t kick him out entirely. But a leave of absence was heavily encouraged. Believe me, this has been a long time coming. Stark’s mental health has been deteriorating since the Battle of New York, not that it was all that brilliant to begin with, but straight up Frankenstein-ing not one, but two super powerful robots over the course of a long weekend? Then blowing up the better half of a European country to set it straight? Yeah, he’s been firmly told to not come back until he’s sat down with about thirty therapists,” Sam gave another huff of amusement, “His girlfriend’s ecstatic. She’s been trying to get him to give up the gig for years. Now that he’s more or less been ordered to do it, maybe he’ll actually listen.”

Wanda was too stunned to say anything. Her mind struggled to even comprehend it. Iron Man…Stark, he was synonymous with the Avengers. He and Captain Rogers were the two everybody always focussed on, their faces splayed across news reports and posters and graffiti. And now, because of her, he was just…gone?

Slowly, somewhere in her gut, a feeling rose. It was so unfamiliar; she almost didn’t recognise it for what it was: satisfaction. It felt like she had won something, something that she had wanted for a very long time and had always been out of reach.

Stark was leaving the Avengers.

Because of her.

Her mouth twitched, involuntarily, at the sides.

“As soon as it became apparent that the two of you really shouldn’t be in the same building, let alone the same room, Agent Hill, Nat and Steve sat him down in a room for half an hour and yeah, by the end of the day he’s gone.”

That brought her back down to earth with a sickening thud. Her stomach dropped.

“I wasn’t…”

She stopped herself, bit her tongue, but Sam was already looking over at her, eyebrow cocked,

“You weren’t…?”

“I wasn’t…going to hurt him.” Kill him in his sleep more like, but they didn’t need to know that. Not that it mattered, Sam looked as though he could see her thoughts, as if they were printed on her forehead. She ducked her head away from his knowing eyes,

“Well, it seemed prudent to get him out of your way. You’ve been through a traumatic time lately, and I don’t think that started with the experiments you went through, did it?” Silence. She shook her head, knowing he wouldn’t continue until she indicated she was listening.

“Yeah, none of us thought so either. Having one less triggering factor in your life seemed like a smart move all round, especially since you’re learning control. Hard to do that with him here.”

The satisfaction, so palatable just seconds ago, curdled in her stomach. They were doing this because of her weakness, not because Stark deserved it. She let her head fall back onto the pillow and sighed loudly.

“That’s not what I’m here to talk to you about though.”

Her eyes closed as her stomach dropped again. _Please don’t_ , she begged silently.

She heard Sam give a big sigh next to her.

“You know, the world is kind of an insane place. Aliens dropping from the sky, Norse gods that are actually real, crazy robots.” Wanda couldn’t stop herself flinching, “And as humans, we deal with it how we can, you know? Some people volunteer for things they wouldn’t usually, others build bunkers and stock up like the apocalypse is coming. The conspiracy theorists come out, the religious nuts get a little nuttier, people close themselves off so they don’t have to worry about people they don’t know or care about.

People like us, who are on the front lines, we have it worse. We see the shit that happens up close, and when the next crazy shit happens, we’re expected to be there again. So, how do we deal with the shit we see?”

Her eyes opened into the silence that followed. Sam was watching her steadily, his face neutral. She hoped she wasn’t expected to answer.

“Therapy is one way,” he offered softly, “Talking things out, it doesn’t always make it better at first, but it can help to have an outsider’s opinion. To see where your focus is needed to help you get better.”

She couldn’t talk about it. Where did she even start? When her parents were blown up in front of her? When she spent nine years dodging danger with Pietro, and some of the things they’d had to do? When she’d felt her brother die? It was too much, and it was threatening to swallow her from the inside out as it was. Getting it past her teeth would be too much.

“Finding ways to help out, that can help too. If you feel like you’ve got a debt to pay, forgiveness to earn, there are ways you can give back.”

Isn’t that what she was doing? By being an Avenger, she’d taken on the protection of the entire world.

Sam sighed at her continued silence,

“Look,” his voice was so gentle, like he was trying to calm a terrified creature, “I don’t…I don’t want you to think I’m letting you off a hook or something, OK? But, Wanda, I have to say, from what I heard, you didn’t kill your brother. No,” hot tears spilled down her face as she grimaced and shook her head, her hands coming up to her ears, ready to block him out, “No, Wanda, listen to me, you didn’t…”

“I did!” she wailed, “I made Stark make ULTRON! ULTRON killed my brother. It’s all my fault.” Her tears were coming thick and fast, her breathing ragged and she felt herself begin to spiral again.

“You think anyone held a gun to Stark’s head? Or Banner’s for that matter? Don’t forget, not only was Stark messing around with shit he didn’t understand, Banner was with him every step of the way.”

“I put the vision in his head. I knew it would make him do something with the spear. I knew he would do that!”

“You knew he’d create a robot that went insane the minute it was unleashed? That’s something you knew he would do?”

“I knew…I knew…”

“You knew it would mess with him. You had no idea it would do this. And you definitely couldn’t have predicted that it would do this, because you would not have given Stark that vision if you had known your brother would die!”

Wanda paused in her sobbing. That was true. If she could turn back time…but she couldn’t.

“It still killed him.”

“Exactly. ULTRON killed him. Not you.”

“I helped create ULTRON.”

“You put a thought in someone’s head that blossomed out of control. But you did not pull the trigger that killed your brother. ULTRON did.”

Wanda tried to draw breath, turning over both Rhodey and Sam’s words in her mind. It was true, she had set the catalyst that ended in Pietro’s death. But she hadn’t ever dreamed that would be the end result. And what was it Rhodey had said? Everybody involved had had a choice. Stark had chosen to build the robot. The robot had chosen to murder the planet and create an indestructible body for himself so that he could survive it. She and Pietro had chosen to follow him in his madness. And they’d chosen to leave him when they realised what he wanted. She had chosen to walk out the door to follow Clint. Pietro…Pietro had chosen to throw the bus in front of Clint and take the bullets himself.

“You know, Stark had to come to terms with stuff like this too.” She couldn’t stop the glare she levelled at Sam for bringing Stark into this, but he sat there unfazed,

“The weapons that he created were shipped out to his enemies. Innocent people died because his tech ended up with the wrong people. He saw first hand the destruction that his weapons caused and we all know how he dealt with that, don’t we?”

Wanda remembered a crumbling building, a dank, wet smell, the _twang_ of a bowstring, _if you walk out those doors, you are an Avenger_. He’d become Iron Man to set things right. Was that any different to what she was doing now?

“Everybody has their own way of coping. We just need to find yours, OK? Not just because you’re an Avenger,” Sam seemed quick to clarify, “But because you need to be able to live with yourself.”

That shouldn’t have felt like a novel thought. She’d been used to just scraping by with Pietro, surviving one day at a time, sometimes one hour at a time for so long. She’d done what she needed to do. She’d never really allowed herself to consider the future before. Or what that future would even look like.

“We can start off small, OK? I’d like you to try therapy, even just a half hour session. We can try out a couple of meditation sessions too, maybe find you a hobby to keep your mind busy? Kitchen’s always stocked if you want to cook. Or learn how to. Gym’s always free if you want to work on your fitness.” He smiled widely at that, inviting her to laugh at the idea of willingly exercising. She managed to twitch her lips. Her mind was turning fuzzy again, the sheer amount of things Sam was expecting from her felt like the ten tonne weight was back on her chest.

At the same time, she knew she couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep living like this. Couldn’t let the grey and the pain and the loss win.

She nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologise if Sam's advice was stupid. She got one win, at least. I promise, the only reason I am this mean to Wanda is because I believe whole heartedly that she can take it.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying yourselves and that you're safe where you are.


	7. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hope everyone is doing OK. Just so you know, more talking out of my arse this time too.
> 
> There's mention of hospital stuff, blood taking in particular, so if that triggers anything feel free to skip from 'Only one thing left' to 'Her shoulders relaxed and her stomach unfolded'. End notes will tell you what you missed.
> 
> She obviously has a nightmare, and I don't think there's anything triggering in there, but if you disagree, just let me know.
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe, washing hands and wearing masks

Sam stayed a little while longer, detailing the things he’d like to try out with her and going into a little more detail. He brought out a small notebook and offered to make her a schedule,

  


“Having a routine can help you regain some structure in your life; gives you a place and time to be and something to do, so you’re not just sitting around all day.”

  


She happily handed that off to him, completely unsure of where she’d even start. Sam nodded and said he’d have one ready for her by tomorrow, just as the door opened.

  


Startled, Wanda looked up and felt rather stupid when she saw that it was a woman dressed in a white lab coat. She was in the hospital wing, of course there were doctors here. The doctor smiled warmly as she approached, introduced herself as Dr Matthews and asked if she could check Wanda over. Glancing over at Sam, who crossed his legs to reassure her he wasn’t going anywhere, she took a breath and nodded.

  


The last people in lab coats who had touched her had not been kind. Dr Matthews’ hands were gentle, her voice calm and, after a glance at Sam, she made a point of explaining what she was going to do before she did it, allowing Wanda to slowly unclench as the pain she was subconsciously expecting never came.

  


“Only one thing left,” Dr Matthews said softly, walking across the room and started rustling through the drawers stacked there, “I’m afraid it will pinch a little, but I need to draw some blood. Just a small vial.” She held it up for Wanda to see. It really was small, no bigger than her little finger, but the sharp needle sticking out of the other end made Wanda’s stomach churn. They’d taken her blood a lot back in Sokovia too.

  


“You need a hand to squeeze?” Sam offered, palm up. Swallowing as quietly as she could, Wanda shook her head, turning to look over Sam’s shoulder as she offered her left arm. She felt Dr Matthews’ cool hand around her elbow and tensed instantly. A short pause then,

  


“I’m going to need you to relax your arm, please. Otherwise this will hurt more.” Dr Matthews’ soothing voice caused Wanda to blush. She knew she was overreacting, but her mind was still stuck in the damp cell, the smell of mildew somehow in her nostrils.

  


“So, do you think you’d like gardening?” Sam said suddenly. Wanda looked up at him as he shifted his chair so that he was facing her directly, “It’s calming, you get outside in the fresh air, if you want, you can try growing some vegetables, so that it’s got a purpose. Or there’s origami, lots of sitting around and folding paper, but it’s pretty soothing. Gets you some pretty things out of it as well. Knitting’s always good too, again you actually get something at the end, and it’s low stress.”

  


Just as she was about to ask how old he thought she was, she felt a scratching on her left arm and made a conscious effort to keep her arm relaxed. Distraction. Clever man.

  


“Birds.” It didn’t make any sense, she didn’t even know where that had come from, but she just needed him to keep talking.

  


A cocked eyebrow, but he continued,

“Yeah, I’m something of a bird watcher myself. Not much for the little ones, obviously, I like my raptors and my, ha, falcons.” That did actually make her smile a little. Sam returned it, “Although you can hear the little ones cheeping away outside in the early mornings, not sure what kind they are but I’m sure you can find out. We got a lake not far from us, probably a lot of water birds just flying or swimming around, waiting for you to tick them off a bird spotter’s list, huh? Want me to get you one of them?” Just as she was nodding – why not? It would be something to add to the routine – she felt the needle being taken out and Dr Matthews dabbing at her arm with a cotton wool bud.

  


Her shoulders relaxed and her stomach unfolded as she took a long breath. As Dr Matthews put a plaster over the crease in her elbow, Sam looked her in the eyes with a shit eating grin and asked if she wanted a sticker.

  


She rolled her eyes and flipped him off with her other hand, the ten tonne weight in her chest lifting ever so slightly.

  


The doctor left with a smile and a nod; Sam followed shortly after, stating that he was going to check on everyone else and start her schedule.

  


Alone in the white room, Wanda tried one of the meditative breathing exercises Sam had given her, focusing on her muscles slowly unclenching until she was fully relaxed, trying to keep her mind clear. She felt as though she’d been scraped over with sandpaper, her mind raw, her heart flayed open. The sun was beginning to set now, golden light slowly moving across the wall opposite her bed in large lines. If she concentrated, she could just hear the cheeps of the birds outside the window, squabbling over food.

  


She hadn’t been this still in so long.

  


Her exhaustion finally catching up with her, Wanda let out one more long deep breath and let her mind fall into sleep.

  


  


_He’d been thinking about his cell, the first time she’d realised she could hear Pietro’s mind. He’d been counting the bricks, over and over and over again._

_When it came out that she was in his head, that she could hear him at all times, he hadn’t been disgusted, or worried. He’d been thankful._

_We aren’t alone now,_ he’d whispered in her mind _, you are right here, with me._

_He had been solid, a golden, warm mind, of thought, feeling, sensation, laughter, love. He was a safe place, in the heart of terror. He would never have left her._

_But then there was a sucking emptiness, darkness where there had been light, crushing cold where there had been warmth and he was gone, gone, gone!!!_

_It felt like falling from a cliff._

_The sudden pull of gravity that was inevitable, even as the rest of your body tried to fly. The twist in the stomach, the breath pulled from her lungs, her mind refusing to believe it had happened._

_She’d tried to grasp him, as he’d gone. She had felt him slip away, unable to stop him, even as she’d tried to find some part of him to snatch back, something to hold on to. And then there was nothing but her in her own head._

_She knew she had screamed. Her knees were still bruised from where she had fallen. There had been shards of metal that might once have been robots surrounding her, but she didn’t remember what she’d done to them. Hadn’t cared._

_Her mind had sought him out._

_She was falling, falling from a ten thousand foot cliff, and she knew there were jagged rocks at the bottom, that she would be dashed to pieces and that it would hurt, but she didn’t care. She would not go down alone._

_He was lying broken in a bus._

_He had the gall to sound like he cared that she would die here. Like he didn’t want that for her._

_Her anger was so strong that the red poured over her hands without her directing it._

_She was already dead. She would not go alone._

_She ripped the heart out of him._

_She made sure it hurt._

_It didn’t feel like enough._

_And then the city began to fall._

_There it was again, the breathless feeling, the twist in her gut as gravity reasserted itself and her body flew up. She felt surprise, dimly, but her grief swallowed it like the ocean swallowing a pebble. Never mind that. It would be over soon. She just had to close her eyes and it would all…_

_Arms. A torso. A bright red face. A gleaming golden gem._

_The android. Vision._

_He’d caught her._

_He was floating and he’d caught her and he’d pulled her into his chest and then they were flying, flying so fast she could barely catch her breath. Over his shoulder, she watched her country shatter and break and explode._

_His arms were strong. She couldn’t break out of them._

_His chest was solid, but she couldn’t get any purchase to push off against him._

_It was too fast, so fast, she couldn’t breathe and she’d…_

_Woken up in the Quinjet, with an orange towel around her shoulders._

_He’d saved her._

_She’d forgotten that._

_His voice floated to her, hazy in dream,_

_“Duty of care. I was made to serve.”_

_He was the reason she was alive._

_Should she be grateful for that?_

  


_Her mind spiralled out from there, only flashes of images, sounds, smells. Loud pops, screaming, shouting, the flash of red metal, of grey metal, of red eyes, of electric blue eyes, of brown eyes in a hated face. She was standing in the gun range, but there weren’t targets, just hanging pieces of paper. They were flying towards her, like a swarm of birds and she was shooting them down, one by one, but her gun was getting lighter and the sheets of paper kept coming and written in large scrawled letters, on every one, were the words: YOU BELONG TO US. She couldn’t tell whose handwriting it was, if there was a symbol on the sheet of paper, either an eerie octopus or a stark eagle, but there was a fearful twisting in her gut that told her she had to get out. There were shadows on the other wall. They were coming. But she couldn’t move. She crouched into a corner, hands up around her face as the pieces of paper swirled down towards her. Straps came up around her wrists and then she was suddenly lying down. The room she was in lit up, but the walls were now smeared with dirt and smelled of mildew and Stark walked in, his face blank and expressionless, Vision stumbled and shuffled in behind him, a perfect marionette on strings and Sam, his friendly smile wiped off, staring down at her as though he wanted to peel back her skin and try to see how she worked. She was strapped to a table. She couldn’t move, she could barely breathe. She tried to beg but no sound came out. Then Stark lifted his hand and the Sceptre appeared there, the bright blue light pulsing sickeningly as he lowered it to her forehead._

_She screamed._

  


  


“Wanda!”

  


She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move. Something was pining her down. She was back in the lab, they were going to place the Sceptre on her head again, they were going to hurt her. Her eyes jolted open and he was there, his electric blue eyes as wide as she had ever seen them, his solid metal arms pining her to the bed and she screamed again and _pushed_.

  


Vision should have hit the wall with a sickening thud to rival Steve’s. Instead, his body passed through the wall as if it wasn’t even there.

  


The bed jolted beneath her as it swung around at an angle and there were loud crashing sounds all around her, as other things collided with the wall and didn’t phase through. As she huddled in on herself, knees up, trying to get her breath back, she quickly scanned the room.

  


Her bed was closer to the window than it had been. The chair Sam had sat in earlier was scattered in plastic shards across the floor. All of the drawers around the room that held doctor’s implements had been thrown around, leaving detritus all over the floor; some even looked as though they had exploded outwards. Whatever shelves there had been were either on the floor, or hanging by a single nail. Most of the lighting in the ceiling was cracked, leaving half the room in shadow.

  


She wasn’t sure she wanted to see anymore. She ducked her head down, her forehead resting on her knees, like a child, and she began to weep.

  


  


For what felt like an hour, nothing happened. Nobody came to check on her, nothing moved in the room, Vision didn’t come back. She let herself cry; they were probably terrified of her now, more terrified than before even. She couldn’t even sleep without breaking everything around her. Maybe this would be where the doctors came in and sedated her and took her away. She was clearly too dangerous to be around even super-powered people.

  


She heard the sound of footsteps approaching her room, what sounded like a long, drawn out sigh and then quiet voices. She flicked out her mind, just to brush against theirs, and heard whispers of _I should not have_ and _oh, boy, this is not gonna be good_. Vision and Sam. She shivered, the phantom memory of those immovable arms clenched around her forearms making her heartbeat kick and her breath shorten, her mind coming back to her with a snap. But when the door slowly creaked open – it had a long crack down the middle of the wood – it was only Sam crouching down on the other side. She watched him take in the room, his face carefully blank, before he nodded his head and let out a low whistle. He looked up and caught her gaze and let a soft smile rest on his face,

  


“So, this is what I’m going to chalk up to a bad day.” Wanda just stared at him. His brows twitched, “What, you thought we were gonna be angry? Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Stark is kinda loaded. This,” he gestured at the mess she’d made, “Isn’t even a drop in the bucket for him.” He gave a small laugh, trying to get her to join in. She clenched her jaw and tightened her grip on her knees. His expression sobered,

“You’ve had a traumatic day. Of course, you had a nightmare. Of course, with your abilities, it got out of control. It’s not a problem, and, hey, Wanda, you’re not weak. No, no, you’re not. We all have them. Every single one of us. You think Vision had to wake me up to get me down here? I was just sitting on my bed, staring out the window. It’s 2 am, by the way.” She blinked at that. Sam smiled ruefully, “Yeah, I just can’t sleep, some nights.”

  


The admission made something in her chest relax. She straightened out her knees and brought her hands down to her side. Sam smiled wanly at her,

“Vision’s sorry, by the way. Apparently, he wasn’t thinking. I guess robots have different reactions to humans, since most of us know not to hold someone down when they’re having a nightmare and a panic attack at the same time.”

  


“He was trying to help,” her voice barely rose above a whisper, her throat was so dry. She coughed and then repeated herself loud enough to carry across the room, “He has a duty of care.” She added. Sam’s eyebrows rose,

  


“Well, he might need some instruction on the best way to do that, then.” She nodded,

  


“He used to be a voice in the ceiling. He doesn’t know what to do now.” Should she have told Sam that? Although she hadn’t really accepted his offer of friendship, he had told her this in…confidence? He had come to her, not the others. A tiny flicker of guilt twisted in her stomach. Sam just looked baffled,

  


“He told you that?”

  


She could hardly lie. Sam’s brow furrowed as he watched her nod,

  


“Maybe I’ll should talk to him at some point too,” he glanced up at her, “Or do you want to do that?”

  


Wanda stiffened in surprise,

“I’m not a therapist.”

  


“No, but it looks like he’s chosen you to talk to, doesn’t it?”

  


Wanda shrugged, tempted to curl up again. She could barely keep herself in one piece; how was she supposed to help Vision through anything? Especially coming to terms with his new found…humanity?

  


“Well, you can have a think, OK? Now, are you hurt at all?”

  


Was she? She checked her arms and legs and brushed her hands over her face. Everything felt fine.

  


Sam smiled,

“Well, that’s one less problem. Now, you’ve been asleep for about 10 hours, and the last time you ate was lunch, so…”

  


Wanda’s stomach gave an embarrassing loud growl as he spoke. It was enough to have them both chuckling, even if hers was hoarse.

  


“Well, that answers that question. Give me a second, I’ll find you some shoes. I’m going back up the corridor, OK, and then I’ll be back.” She nodded, taking a deep breath as he disappeared. She looked down again at the mess she’d made on the floor. Guilt again swirled in her stomach and she suddenly felt frustrated with herself. Why did she always have to make a mess? She thought of her conversation with Rhodey earlier and internally laughed at the irony. Maybe she was a true Avenger after all.

  


But could she make it easier, to clean up if nothing else? Tentatively, she reached inward and let the red flow out. The swirling energy covered her hands and she pushed at the mess on the floor. The red extended, caught the plastic and metal, and she spread her fingers and pushed her palms outwards carefully, so carefully it almost didn’t work. Slowly, the detritus separated, moving to opposite corners of the room, leaving a single clean path to the door. It was such a simple thing, but it made her feel a little better. As she looked up, she nearly startled – stupidly – at seeing Sam standing in the doorway. He was smiling though.

  


“Good job. Nice and easy does it. Now, food?” and he held up a pair of pure white trainers.

  


  


The dining room was dark and silent. Sam switched on the lights in the kitchen as he wandered through, leaving her standing by the window, looking out over the grounds. The silent greenery and young trees looked both eerie and beautiful in the light cast by a crescent moon. It was peaceful though. And so quiet. Sokovia…it hadn’t been this quiet at night for years. She soaked it in almost reverently.

  


Metal clangs came from behind her, and her eyes slid to where she could watch Sam’s reflection in the window. He had a frying pan on the stove and he moved to the fridge as she watched, pulling out a carton of eggs and what looked like the remains of an entire roast chicken. Confused, she turned and walked over to the counter. As she approached, Sam looked up and asked,

  


“Omelette?” She blinked, her eyes looking from the ingredients laid out on the counter – some dried herbs in jars, a thick slab of cheese and some bacon slices laid out beside the chicken. Her mouth watered and she nodded. Sam smiled,

  


“So, my personal favourite is chicken and bacon, topped off with some cheese and a sprinkling of parsley, with a dash of paprika to give it a kick. Sound good?”

  


She would have eaten it plain. His version sounded much better. She swallowed, her mouth watering just at the thought, and nodded again, ducking her head as she smiled.

  


“Excellent.” And Sam bent to his task. Wanda offered to help but he just waved her over to the windows again, apparently intent on cooking his masterpiece himself. Feeling weirdly guilty – she still wasn’t used to people just doing things for her – she sat in a chair at the table facing the windows, trying to see through the glare from the lights out into the darkness again.

  


She took in the calm scene before her and tried to regulate her breathing, the way Sam had shown her earlier. With her mind focussed purely on breathing and the quiet night, she felt the horrors of the day slide to the back of her mind, although she didn’t lock it away. Repressing thoughts was unhealthy, she remembered, and instead resolved to just be present, to take in the beautiful sight out of the window and allow the sounds and smells from the kitchen behind her to overtake her senses. Her spine relaxed and she found herself slouching, half asleep in her chair when a plate landed on the table in front of her. He’d folded the omelette in half but it still covered almost the whole plate. She was suddenly ravenous and instinctively moved to just tear some of it off and eat it with her bare hands when a knife and fork clattered down on the table next to her.

  


Embarrassed, she reached out and grabbed them, before turning back and starting to attack the food in front of her. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that Sam was sitting with his own considerably smaller omelette and eating as well, but her attention returned completely to the food after she started chewing the first mouthful. It was utterly delicious.

  


She didn’t know how long it took her to eat the whole thing, but by the time she emerged from the plate, her stomach was gurgling happily. She felt relaxed and full and safe. The thought wasn’t even weird to her anymore. Safe.

  


Sheepishly, she flickered her eyes over to Sam, who was sipping on a cup of something hot, as if he had nothing else he’d rather be doing right now.

  


“Better?”

  


“Much better,” she agreed, “Thank you, Sam.”

  


He waved away her thanks with his mug,

  


“What’s a little insomnia and midnight snacking between friends?”

  


Friends.

  


That word was still weird to her. ‘Friends’ hadn’t existed since school. That had been years ago. But they could exist now? Right?

  


“Sure, friends,” she gave him a small, terrified smile. He glanced back at her and his eyes saddened a little, but his smile stayed right where it was,

  


“Friends,” he re-iterated again, and raised his mug in a salute.

  


Unsure what to do with herself, Wanda looked back out the window, shy again. A wave of drowsiness swept over her, and she felt herself slump a little in her seat. She supposed she’d have to go up to her room now; she probably shouldn’t sleep in her ruined hospital room. Although her bed had been fine, and she’d definitely slept in worse. She didn’t want to move though.

  


“Hey,” right, Sam was still here, “Your room is just upstairs, think you can make it?”

  


Could she? Probably, but it felt like a lot of effort. Still, she took a deep breath and stood, slowly.

  


“You want a guide?” Sam’s gently laughing voice didn’t rankle, in fact her lips twitched. She rubbed her hand across her eyes and shook her head. “Alright then, see you tomorrow.”

  


She waited a second, to see if he would leave, or even start to clean up the table. Instead he just sat, holding his mug, his eyebrow raised.

  


“See you tomorrow, Sam.”

  


She left him there, sitting in the half dark, staring out the window, and made her way to bed.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone that skipped, Wanda gets her blood drawn, tenses up because it freaks her out, so Sam chats to her about activities she might want to do to distract her. She settles on bird watching and he jokes with her about that.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying this, if you're still reading. I promise I will pick up the pace soon. I just want to kind of set up the character interactions as I see them, since it'll impact everything going forward.


	9. Trust Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.  
> Happy New Year. Hope 2021 is treating you a little better.  
> Sorry it took me so long, but this one's a bit longer than usual, so hopefully that makes up for it.  
> This chapter contains scenes of a therapy session. Again, I have never been to therapy, so take it all with a heaping of salt. And what's this, at the end? Is that...a fun scene?

When she woke the next morning, she considered just lying there for the whole day. She would have to explain what happened last night, have to deal with the fact that she couldn’t even sleep properly without losing control, have everyone go quiet in the way they often did when they didn’t know what to do with her.

And, of course, they’d seen the footage yesterday too. They must all think she was utterly crazy.

Better, she figured, to just stay in bed and not deal with it, at all.

“Miss Maximoff, are you feeling unwell?”

Wanda’s hand closed on her bed side lamp and she threw it towards the sound of the voice before she even registered that she’d moved. Vision simply turned his shoulders from where he was standing against the wall, and the lamp cracked as it hit the wall and slid to the ground.

She was out of bed, panting, her breath loud in her ears and her heart thundering in her chest. Vision’s entire expression was stiff, but his eyes were wide. They stared at each other.

“What…are you doing in here!” she snapped at him, anger and frustration rising in her chest and for God’s sake, it was too early for this!

“You had a difficult night. I wished to see if you were feeling better or not.” Straight forward, simple, ‘duty of care’ approved.

“And you didn’t think to knock!” Anger crackled through her like fire. She had been told that their rooms were their one source of privacy. That he could just walk in, or, more likely, phase through the wall was not OK. And, from the look on his face, a small crease in his brow, a tightening around the eyes and a slight purse of his lips…no, he really hadn’t considered knocking.

“I…have never needed to before.” Wanda sat down on the bed, her breath finally under control and trying to reign in her emotions as well. Think. He didn’t mean her any harm, he just wanted to check up on her, as was his programming apparently. Programming. From when he’d been a voice in the ceiling. She made herself take a deep breath and followed that thought to its logical conclusion. He’d been able to go anywhere in the building with – what probably amounted to for a machine – a single thought. He couldn’t do that anymore. So he’d done the next best thing, physically showing up to make sure she was OK. Did it make it any less creepy?

Hell, no.

“I appreciate that you were worried and you wanted to check on me,” there was something about his voice, the serious tone he used, that she felt the need to emulate now, as she tried to stay calm, “But this is my private room and I don’t like people just walking in, especially if the door is closed, OK? Door closed, please knock, alright? And how long have you just been standing there? That’s creepy and…disturbing. I don’t need to be watched all the time.”

Vision was quiet for a moment. She watched him, waiting to see if he understood.

“I have upset you. I apologise.” OK, so he knew he’d done something wrong. Did he understand how? He was a sentient computer; this should not have felt like talking to a five year old. Except that’s what he was, in a sense, wasn’t he? Five days old, not even years. She willed herself to patience and asked,

“Do you understand why you upset me?”

One breath. Two breaths. He was still looking at her. She could almost see the cogs turning in his head.

“You have been held captive by people who violated your autonomy and did not allow you privacy during a fundamental change in your life and so you are protective of your personal space and your control of that space. I have violated both.”

She blinked rapidly as her mind processed his answer. Only five days old, but that was not a childish response.

“Yes.” To all of that.

“I had only been in the room for two minutes and thirty-six seconds. I apologise that I did not make you aware of my presence. I am used to a…passive existence.”

She could only imagine.

“I get that this is…difficult for you too,” well, she could guess the bare bones of it, not the whole of it, “You’re going through a change as well. And you know everything about us but…not, at the same time?” Her voice rose to a question at the end. Vision blinked, then nodded.

“As I said before, concepts that make sense in theory are much more difficult to act out in practice.”

She nodded,

“For us too. Sometimes.” She lowered her eyes and her gaze landed on her lamp. It was lying on its side with a large crack in the base and shards of lightbulb littering the floor. Another surge of frustration went through her at the sight – could she have one day where she didn’t break something? – and a small pulse of irritation aimed at Vision for causing her to react like that, but she got up off the bed to clean it up.

“Ah,” Vision had noticed her destination, “I apologise again for not alerting you to my presence. Last night my actions caused you to panic. I was given to understand that no physical contact would be better this time.”

She felt goosebumps erupt on her skin as she remembered the grip he’d had on her arms. Her eyes lowered to his hands without her permission, and she remembered the cool, steady pressure of them before she’d removed them. She shook her head to rid herself of these thoughts.

“Yeah, please don’t do that again. I don’t like being held down or trapped.” Instantly she regretted saying the words. One of the most important rules of her childhood: never let anyone see your weakness. Nobody but Pietro had known she was scared of needles, aggressive dogs and snakes. Nobody was supposed to.

But Vision had a duty of care. And she…believed him. And he recognised that he had done something wrong and, well, he hadn’t promised not to do it again, but he was certainly taking note of what not to do around her. It was only common sense to tell him herself what he shouldn’t do, instead of him having to guess.

“That is perfectly understandable. I should not have put you in such a position and that I regret that I caused you such distress.” He sounded so sincere. It was almost hard to look at him. She needed to break the tension, to change the subject,

“I’m sorry I threw you through a wall.” Involuntarily, her lips twitched up at the corners as she said it. Strange, how that kept happening around him.

“It was no trouble. I was not injured and neither was the wall. May I ask a question, if it is acceptable for you?”

Wanda had cleaned all the shards into a little pile and carefully deposited them into a waste bin/ Sighing loudly, she turned away from it and looked at him. His face was back to its expressionless mask. She nodded.

“Do you always react violently when surprised?” His tone was calm, simple, professional. It only sparked the irritation in her gut harder and she clenched her teeth so that she wouldn’t blurt out the first nasty thing that came to mind. As she took a deep breath yet again, she had to acknowledge that he was right. She did react violently, not just to surprise, but to a lot of other things as well. The simple question he’d just asked. Stark’s mere presence. Even to simple goading from Steve yesterday. It was yet another life lesson from Sokovia. If somebody had surprised you, it generally didn’t mean good things.

“It’s the way we survived for many years,” her throat closed up tight and a deep wave of sorrow crept through her.

“I see.” Vision’s voice was gentle again. His eyes were…soft(?) as he looked at her. She swallowed loudly and looked away, gently trying to put her grief away as she did so.

“Sam’ll probably have something to say about that in therapy.” How did the others crack jokes during difficult moments like this? She felt like she was struggling to breath.

“I hope you will benefit from it,” he sounded truly hopeful. What was his expression like at the moment? She didn’t let herself look and instead purposefully strode over to her wardrobe.

“Well, I guess I’m getting up after all, so if you would please leave, I’m going to get dressed. That’s another reason you should knock, by the way.” She sorted through her clothes, wondering if he’d already phased away.

“I shall endeavour to remember, Miss Maximoff.” From behind her, she heard the door open and close. She felt her back relax, her mind calm as she registered the quiet of her own room again, making sure he was gone. She took three deep breaths to calm herself. Then she started to get dressed.

_Guess I’m dealing with this day after all,_ she thought wryly.

Natasha, Steve and Sam were sitting at the dining table when she came down. There was a spread of breakfast foods on the sideboard again, the mouth-watering scent of bacon calling to her stomach, but she paused for a second in the doorway. Glancing at the table, she tried to catch someone’s eye, wondering if she was welcome. Natasha was the one who finally looked over and all she did was raise an eyebrow. Heat filled Wanda’s cheeks and she stepped forward into the room, grabbing a plate as she went.

Sam threw her a small smile as she sat down. He was still sitting where she’d left him, now with a fresh cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Wanda returned his smile then set to eating, occasionally glancing out the window. The sun was up and a bright blue sky stretched all the way to the horizon; it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

Steve was inhaling his plate, piled high with eggs, bacon and at least six slices of toast. As he finished his mouthful, he looked across at Wanda and said,

“So, day two of training,” and Wanda stared back at him in surprise.

She…was still in?

“But…last night, and yesterday…” she had to ask, just to be sure they meant it.

“Oh please, this one,” Natasha pointed to Steve, “Busted out of a SHIELD secure site in New York within five minutes after he defrosted. We’re used to people breaking shit. And it’s not like we haven’t considered killing Stark before either.”

How was she saying this like it was a joke? Like it was OK?

“I’m dangerous!” Wanda blurted out. All that got was another eyebrow raise and a wry look in the other woman’s eyes,

“I’ve killed a man with a toothpick before. Steve can break through walls when he wants to. Sam…well, he’s a pretty good shot,” she huffed a laugh as the man in question tried to elbow her.

“Alright, just because I’m normal amounts of lethal doesn’t mean I’m not dangerous too, thank you very much. Also, I can fly. Those wings can be weapons in their own right, missy.”

“Yeah, you’ll have to show me some time,” Natasha countered, leaning back casually, sending a pointed look at Wanda.

“I’d like to see too,” she ducked her head as they looked at her, unused to being the centre of attention, “You did say you would show me your wings.”

Sam smiled at her,

“I did, didn’t I. Well, that’ll probably be soon. Right, boss?” Steve had just taken a massive bite of eggs and bacon, so they had to wait while he chewed them down.

“Well, the plan is that your mornings are gonna be spent in therapy, working out everything that’s…going on with you,” he used his fork to gesture at her, “and helping you adjust to being here. The afternoon is for workouts and team building. I want us to be able to work together on and off a battlefield.” He gave her a slightly blinding smile before going back to attacking his food.

Wanda took a fortifying breath, a small quailing part of her wishing she could run back to her room and hide there for the rest of the day. Spilling her guts first thing in the morning and having her head picked over? Not something she wanted to do at all. But Sam was eyeing her again, as if he could read her mind, so she shovelled the rest of her food into her mouth, figuring she’d need the strength.

“I’ll escort you, shall I?” Natasha offered as Wanda stood up to put her plate away. Wanda nodded, though she was confused as to why Sam wasn’t volunteering. Wasn’t he going to be her therapist?

“On the whole ‘being dangerous’ front, by the way, need I remind you that we have an android walking around with a magical power rock in his head that none of us know how to deal with? Or that Thor or any of his family can just randomly show up any day of the week? Or the literal aliens that we now know exist? Sorry to say it, but in terms of ‘dangerous’, you’re not exactly high on the agenda right now,” Natasha’s voice was a little chiding as she led her through the corridors of the Complex and Wanda bowed her head, red flushing her cheeks. To her chagrin, she realised that she had been a little self-absorbed about her own powers.

“It’s ok to be a little lost in it. What happened to you was a lot. But the rest of the world still exists, you know. They’ll be able to help you with that.” She pointed to a blank brown door beside them. Wanda stared at it, sudden fear freezing her in place. She felt her palms start to sweat and her lungs grow heavy.

“They don’t bite, you know. On you go.”

Natasha didn’t immediately move away, and Wanda realised that she was going to stay there until she walked through the door. Forcing herself to breathe slowly, feeling like the floor might fall out from beneath her at any moment, she opened the door.

It was a little anti-climactic. The walls were a warm brown colour, the carpet steel grey and there were several comfortable couches along the walls of the room, as well as a squat table with four chairs sat around it. The lighting was natural – a large bay window overlooking the gardens filled the room with warm light. A woman wearing a charcoal suit and her hair done up in a bun looked up from a small kitchenette, kettle in hand. She smiled at Wanda,

“Ah, good morning. You must be Wanda Maximoff, right? Tea? Coffee?” She held up the kettle, which was steaming at the spout.

“Oh, um, nothing, thank you.” It was ridiculous to react like this woman was going to attack or hurt her in some way. Wanda nevertheless walked slowly into the room, keeping her eyes trained on the woman.

“Suit yourself,” the woman added a shrug and poured out a cup for herself, adding milk and four teaspoons of sugar, “I know I shouldn’t,” she added when Wanda didn’t look away, “but coffee is just so strong without a little sweet.” She gestured to the room,

“Now, where would you be comfortable?”

The question made no sense. Or rather, it seemed utterly pointless. Wanda stood, mute, and watched the woman, waiting for anything else. Nothing else was forthcoming. The woman stayed exactly where she was, returning Wanda’s eye contact and waiting.

“I…I don’t care?” Wanda said, her voice sounding hoarse in the quiet. The woman’s head cocked, as though she was a bird who’d just spotted something shiny.

“Comfort is important, especially during times like this. I am supposed to help you gain a sense of mental and emotional stability. It’s quite hard to do if you aren’t comfortable yourself. If you want to sit, please choose any seat. If you want to lie down – it’s cliché, but some people do – then you may do so. And if you want to keep standing, that’s also fine, but I might take a seat. I twisted my ankle hiking two weeks ago and it still twinges now and again.” All of this was said in a calm, melodic voice that caused the tension in Wanda’s shoulders to give a little with each word. There was choice here and, while there was also an air of expectation, it wasn’t the harshness it had been in H.Y.D.R.A. That had been very much ‘do this or you’ll get hurt’. This was more ‘This is my job, but you get to choose how this goes’. It almost felt too good to be true.

She scanned the room again. The couches along the back wall looked cosy. She gestured over and the woman smiled again, this time wide enough that her teeth showed. She had a lovely smile.

“Excellent,” and she led the way. Wanda followed but still kept a distance of a few feet. It was ridiculous. This woman wasn’t going to hurt her. She wasn’t even going to touch her, by the looks of things. Still, she couldn’t force herself to get any closer. ‘You are protective of your space and your control of that space’ echoed in her mind from earlier. She wondered if this woman could see that as easily as Vision could.

“So, my name is Dr Nakano. I’ve been a therapist for almost ten years now. I have worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents exclusively for the last three. I say this, just so you know, so that if you want to talk about the more extreme events that have happened to you, I have at least some frame of reference for what you might be feeling. The Battle of New York shook up a lot of people, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents included. So if you think I might not understand what you’ve been through, I will be frank, I might not fully appreciate the full scope of your experience, but I have a close approximation of it. Does that sound OK?”

Wanda nodded, trying to stop herself from hunching in where she sat, as though she were trying to protect her internal organs from scrutiny.

“So…where would you like to start?”

Instantly, Wanda’s jaw clicked shut, even as her mind started to whirl. Where to start? Her parent’s deaths? Pietro’s? Joining H.Y.D.R.A? Nearly being crushed by a wall when she was thirteen? Nearly being stabbed by a gang member eleven months ago? Watching her city fall from the sky and die right in front of her?

To her shock, and embarrassment, her mouth stayed fused shut, but she began to cry in earnest.

“Ah,” Dr Nakano’s voice was gentle and patient, “Take as long as you need. We have all morning.”

Wanda came down for lunch with a blotchy face but a lighter heart and a spring in her step. Natasha smiled and wordlessly joined her in filling up their plates. Everybody kept the lunch chatter light, mostly Steve detailed their afternoon training. A few hours of gym time, another hour in the shooting range with Natasha and then their first major team building exercise: building rafts.

“There’s a small lake a mile and a half away. There’s materials out there that we should be able to use to make something watertight.” Wanda forced a smile but inwardly started dreading the upcoming task. If it was a team building exercise, she would have to talk to someone. She crossed her fingers that it would be Nat and got on with her afternoon.

She and Nat stuck together during the gym session, with Vision hovering mostly silently behind them. Steve and Sam seemed to have an established routine in the gym, which mostly consisted of loud insults thrown at each other and egging each other on to go faster or lift more. It was funny, and Wanda found herself smiling, organically, a few times. Nat smiled when she noticed, but rolled her eyes when another loud shout came from the other side of the gym and sighed,

“Men.”

Wanda actually laughed.

Her shooting hadn’t improved by much, but she could take the gun apart, with a few reminders, and put it back together again, and her shots were still grouped together, with a few exceptions, and they were slowly migrating towards the centre of the bullseye.

And finally, no matter how much she wished it wouldn’t come, they were loaded into a car and driven out to the lake. As the walls of the Complex disappeared behind her, Wanda allowed herself a deep breath out.

‘Work on being in the present moment’ she remembered Dr Nakano saying earlier, and allowed herself to enjoy the simple sensory experiences around her, closing her eyes to get the full effect. The sun warm through the glass, the sight of fields of grass on either side of the road, and the cool wind coming through the cracked windows, as well as listening to the chatter of the others. The car swung to the left and Wanda felt her nerves pick up, but kept her eyes closed, allowing herself a few more seconds of calm.

In the next minute, the car stopped and the door cracked open. Wanda opened her eyes and got out, leaving the door open for Vision, who had been sitting behind her. He nodded to her as he stood up and his mouth twitched at the sides again.

“Alright, over here guys.” Steve called them down to the water front, where a large assortment of materials was scattered across the ground. There were two or three large wooden pallets, as well as seven or eight massive blue plastic barrels, several yards of rope and twine rolled up in loops, a small stack of logs, a few pontoons, some pool noodles, four paddles and two gimmicky pirate hats. Steve picked these last two off the ground.

“So, in honour of our two new recruits, they can be the captains of these ships.”

Wanda’s stomach instantly took a dive and landed in her feet, even as the nerves swam up to take its place.

FUCK!

This is exactly what she hadn’t wanted.

Vision stepped forward, uncomplaining, and Wanda hurried to follow, trying to make it seem like she was unworried as she did so.

“So, the only rule about this test is ‘no super powers’. No super strength or speed for us, Vision, or moving anything with your mind, Miss Maximoff. Just pure and simple labour.”

Wanda looked at the pile of logs, each one as thick as her leg, and remembered her terrible attempt at weight lifting not half an hour ago. This was going to be impossible.

“Now, normally, I would ask you two to choose your team mates, but I think I’ll be assigning them, this time around. So Sam, you’re with Vision. Wanda, I’m with you. And Nat…”

They all turned back to the car. Natasha was spread out on a blanket, a magazine in front of her and a thermos of…something open beside her.

“Nat can make sure nobody cheats.” Steve finished, clearly fighting an exasperated smile.

“You’re doing great,” Natasha deadpanned, never lifting her eyes from the page.

That got a chuckle out of Sam and Steve, but Wanda kept her eyes on Nat, hoping she’d look up and…what? Offer to take Steve’s place? Either way, the red-head kept her eyes glued to the glossy pages in front of her.

“OK, we’ve got until the sun sets to get these rafts sea-worthy. That’s about an hour and a half from now. Hopefully we’ll have enough time for a paddle out to the flag,” he pointed out into the lake, where a red flag was sticking out of the water about 15 metres from shore, “and back again, to test out your buoyancy, but we’ll see. So captains, if you wouldn’t mind.” And Steve handed over their pirate hats with a massive winning grin. Vision took his with little fanfare, and Wanda only swallowed harshly before reaching out to take hers. She felt a little ridiculous, but Steve was watching her, his eyes bright and face expectant and she at least attempted a smile, for his sake.

“Alright, ready? Set. Go.”

Sam and Vision headed over to the pile of materials, Vision already pointing to what he wanted, and Wanda felt her mind go completely blank. It seemed even more stupid now; Vision was easily the most intelligent person here; she had no hope of beating him at this. She wished, more than anything, that she could fast forward time, and they could all be back in the Complex, exercise over, and she would never have to do this again.

“Hey, they’re getting ahead of us, ya know,” Steve was still standing beside her, waiting for instructions. Wanda felt herself blushing – she was letting him down – but he just took a look at her face and nodded, “I remember when I got my first command too. I’d been in the army all of six months, and most of that had been on stage and in tights. Everyone else was better at this than me, they’d had years of experience, and sure, I could finally run and shoot and throw my shield, but I didn’t know what I was doing. And people’s lives were depending on me.”

He made a point of looking across at the mounds of materials, then back at her. Wanda sincerely wanted to curl up in a ball and sink down to the centre of the earth, but he kept talking,

“It’s not about winning. It’s being able to look at a situation and figuring out the steps to get to the end. It’s about seeing what works and what doesn’t. It’s about using what you got,” he gestured at himself, “to get where you need to go. And all I need you to do is build me something that might stop us getting wet the second we push off from the bank. It needs to hold together for about a minute, tops. That’s all I need from you, Wanda.” He nodded back over at the materials and stood tall, waiting.

Wanda felt her anxiety calm as he spelled it out for her. Her embarrassing stage-fright settled down and she made herself look at the materials on hand, looked at Steve, estimating in her mind weights and buoyancy, and then turned back to the piles. Vision and Sam had already grabbed three barrels and some rope and Wanda was determined not to let them get any more of a head start.

“We need a pallet, four barrels, as much wood as you can carry, as much rope as I can carry and two of those pontoons. Oh, and two paddles.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve saluted, and while it was clearly joking and a little sarcastic, it nevertheless lit up a small part of Wanda’s chest. Together they manoeuvred the barrels over to the right side of the lake, and while Steve carried over at least ten logs (in two piles of five – no super strength) Wanda lashed the barrels together as well as she could with the rope. She asked Steve to check her knots, and after only one or two corrections, the barrels were deemed lashed.

“What next?” Steve asked.

“So, I want to put the pallet on top of the barrels, and that can be where we stand, or sit, depending.” She waited for Steve to object, or say something critical, but he just looked at the pallet, looked at the barrels and nodded.

“How are we doing that then?

She outlined her plan of lashing the logs across the top of the barrels, to form a frame, and then tying the pallet to the top of the frame, making it as sturdy as she could manage. Any extra logs could be placed around the barrels’ sides for any extra buoyancy that might achieve. The pontoons would go on either side of the raft for stability purposes, and again, any extra buoyancy that could be gained. Steve was a big guy; she didn’t want her raft to fall apart the second he stepped onto it.

Steve didn’t utter a word of contradiction. He lifted the pallet on and held it while she tied, then fixed one pontoon to the side, while she did the other. All in all, when she stood back, she was happy to see that it looked quite sturdy. Maybe even sea-worthy, after all.

“You two done then?”

She’d gotten so caught up, she’d completely ignored Sam and Vision right beside them. Steeling herself, Wanda looked over at the other team’s raft, prepared to see some unbelievable feat of engineering.

Instead, it looked very similar to hers. Only, Vision hadn’t put a pallet on top as a seating area, which meant he and Sam would have to straddle the barrels to move them. He had, however, apparently attempted to streamline the raft, with logs lashed in a triangle at the front to cut through the water.

She looked down as her cheeks coloured again. Why had she expected Vision to come out with some out-of-this-world design when he was working with exactly the same materials she was? She felt ridiculous.

“I’d say so, right, skipper?”

Steve was apparently going to milk her ‘captaincy’ for all it was worth. Instead of answering straight away, she checked the sun’s position. It was still almost a hand’s breadth above the horizon.

“Do we still have time to test them out?” A surge of excitement, completely disarming, swelled up in her. But her fingers were raw from all of the rope she’d been twisting, and her knees ached from kneeling on the ground, and she wanted to know if her raft would float after all. And if it would hold Steve’s weight.

“I’d say we’ve got time,” Steve gave her a wide grin, one she’d heard described as ‘All-American’. She let herself smile back.

They lined up their rafts on the bank, the fronts tipped into the water. Steve had ruled that super strength could be used to get them in and out of the water, but not to help them get to the middle of the lake. Wanda was tempted to try and push it with her powers, but decided she’d only do that if they were in danger of losing badly. Steve would probably understand.

“Three. Two. One. GO!”

She jumped onto the front of the raft as Steve pushed. The raft hit the water and there was an uneasy moment as the water swelled around them and Wanda worried that she was about to go for a swim. Then the back landed, Steve jumped on – surprisingly lightly for a man of his build – and they were both sitting up front with paddles in their hands. Wanda started paddling frantically, Steve huffing an amused laugh as he tried to keep pace with her, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw they were neck and neck with Sam and Vision. Vision’s metallic body shone in the setting sun, and caused her to turn away so that it didn’t interfere with her eyes.

“Oh, looks like you’ve got a beast there, huh? Taking it’s time to get anywhere, isn’t it!” Sam’s taunting voice echoed over the lake.

“Maybe you should pay attention to your own craft instead of ours,” Steve called back jovially, as one of the logs secured to Sam and Vision’s raft started to float free.

Sam cursed loudly, and Wanda couldn’t stop herself huffing a quick laugh as she paddled on. The flag pole was only a few metres away – they had covered more distance than she thought – and the urge to win beat strongly inside her. She pushed her paddle in as deep as it would go, almost losing her balance as she did so, and on the other side she could see Steve’s massive shoulders bulging in his shirt as he tried to match her. Sneaking a glance over, eyes narrowed against the glare, Wanda saw Vision also paddling as quickly as he could without his superior strength.

“Hey, Vision, tap the pole with your paddle! We’ve got them!” Sam shouted. Wanda swung her eyes forwards and saw that the pole was passing by, just out of her reach, even with the paddle. In an insane moment of perfect clarity, Wanda knew what she had to do. Hooking her foot through the slats of the pallet, she stood up and reached forwards. Steve made a sound that was halfway between shocked and amused, as she just beat Vision to the pole – her paddle causing the metal to give a nice, clear ‘clang’ – by a few centimetres. She had one moment of perfect happiness, of glorious satisfaction, as the raft floated past the pole.

Then her foot slipped and she crashed into the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anybody actually know what those blue barrels used to contain? They always seem to be used for raft building stuff.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this. I truly don't believe they bothered giving Wanda any therapy in universe, so I figured I'd be nice to her, this time. That's your allowance of 'nice things' for the year :-P  
> Yes, I am watching WandaVision, btw. Liking that they actually have chemistry (since they're usually side-lined in the films) and are a convincing couple. I'm enjoying the intrigue around what is going on with Wanda's powers. If she brought back the Mind Stone, however, that might be a problem.   
> But more than anything....THEY REMEMBERED PIETRO EXISTED! Because he is literally never mentioned again after Ultron, and I was kind of wondering if they'd completely forgotten about him. Glad he got at least a mention!  
> Anyway, I hope you're having a good day, wherever you are, and that you can stay as safe as you can. Wear your mask, wash your hands, chin up. It'll all be over one day.


End file.
